The Tree
by missy42
Summary: Rogue and Remy have been through a lot together, but can they get past the hurtles that constantly seem to block them from having a *real* relationship? Severe Rogue/Remy Agnst. All chapters posted, with formatting update! Please r/r.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer:  The characters are not mine.  Not a single one of them.  They belong to Marvel, not me, and I'm not making any money off this, nor do I have any, so don't bother with the whole copyright infringement thingy-ma-bob-er.  I'll try to be gentle wit them.

Author's notes:  I wrote quite a bit of this by candlelight (wow, never thought I'd say that!) partly because my roommate of sorts wanted to sleep and my desk lamp is too bright, but mostly because I like candles.  There is some cursing in it.  Not an excessive amount, but Xavier fans should be forewarned that Rogue tells him off.  And for those of you who don't like the Professor…Rogue cusses out Xavier!  It takes place in an alternative reality.  Or the not terribly distant future.  Whatever it doesn't really matter.  Anyway...

The Tree

Prologue

Everyday, people lose their vision, or hearing, but not her.  Not yet – and not permanently – anyway.  No, she lost her ability to touch, and ever since the manifestation of her so-called powers, she considered the ability to feel the most precious of all the senses.  So, since she couldn't touch the skin of others without harming them and, more often than not, harming herself in the process, she did the best she could to surround herself in things that did feel good on her skin.  She liked the soft stuff – cashmere, flannel, satin.  But silk – ah, silk – was her favorite.  It had a way of resting ever so lightly on the skin, almost gliding on it when she moved in it, that she just loved.  And it was soft – so soft.  It was heavenly.

He had obviously kept this in mind when picking out the dress.  Silk.  She could tell right away, without having to look at the tag.  She loved it.  Unfortunately, though, silk is expensive, and he could only afford to rent it.  She'd hate to give it up, but she'd bother with that later and enjoy the dress while she could.  It was spearmint green, long, and flowing.  It was rather low cut, revealing quite a bit of her cleavage, and most all of her back, with spaghetti straps holding it up.  She would have preferred something that wasn't quite so revealing, but he had provided her with a pair of long gloves that went up past her elbows and matched her dress, along with a shawl to cover her back and shoulders.  The sight was really quite breath taking.

They were dancing close.  The music was slow, soft, rhythmic.  He brushed some of her reddish-brown hair from her face and leaned in so his chin was just above her shoulder.  They were dancing close.

            "Mon chere...I'm so in love with you--"

He whispered in her hear.  He was entering on to emotionally dangerous turf, and he knew it, but he didn't care.  He had been holding this back for such a long time, now, and just couldn't do it any longer.  Besides.  He meant it.

"I want you.  I want you so much it's drivin' me crazy.  I wanna make love to you--"

She trembled in his arms.  Despite all her strength, she trembled as he spoke these things to her.  It scared her, what he was saying, because of what it meant.  Her rational side told her she should stop him from saying any more, but everything else inside her wanted to listen to him, to let him finish speaking of all the acts they dared not do.

"I wanna know you, know what it's like to be inside you again--"

Gently, very gently, she began to push him away.

"Please...don't..."

She begged feebly, but he seemed to only draw her closer.

"I wanna feel your lips on mine, your body next to mine -"  

            "Stop…" her voice faltered as she uttered the word.

            She really pushed him away this time, careful not to hurt him, careful not to push too hard or clutch too tightly with her hands.  She bit her lip, swallowed hard and ran out of the restaurant.  She was about to take off in flight.  It was, after all, the fastest way to get back home.  Realizing she had a dress on, she thought better of it and hailed a cab.


	2. Radiance in a Dress

The Tree

Radiance in a Dress

            She deserved to be treated like a princess, and he knew that.  So, he decided to take her out for a nice night out.  It was no special occasion, he just wanted to make her feel appreciated.  He had left the dress and jewelry on the bed with a note telling her to put it on.  At first she wasn't sure what to make of it.  She tracked him down and asked what this thing was all about.  He assured her it was nothing disreputable, and she returned to her room to change only after some convincing of his noble intentions.  She looked radiant in it.  Course, she always did, to him.  In reality, she looked like she felt a little awkward in the dress.  Or, rather, being seen in it, because we all know she was blushing in front of the mirror while alone in her room.  One of the other ladies of the household had helped her with her makeup, and had done a nice job.  When she came down the stairs, everyone male in the room dropped their jaws and let their eyes pop out of their sockets.  They knew she was beautiful, but none of them ever dreamed she could look as radiant as she did in that dress.  Well, everyone except for him, of course.  To him, the dress only embellished the beauty that was already there.

            Everything had gone perfect.  The dinner was marvelous, and even though they were in a crowed restaurant, it was as if they were back in "their closet," as they called it, and they were the only ones in the world.  And he had managed to sabotage their perfect night.  He hadn't meant for it to end the way it did.  He thought.

"You jus' can' keep yo' big mouth shut, can you?  You fool, you stupid fool!"

He had just gotten so carried away, he couldn't help himself, couldn't hold himself back any longer.  It seemed like a reasonable thing to do at the time.

"And what if she decided to forget her own self-control?  At least one of us has got some left.  It shouldn't just be on her, though.  It should be my responsibility, too, not just hers.  And now she's mad at me for it.  And hurt.  You know she's sensitive about that.  And now you've gone and hurt the one person you never want to see in pain.  You fool, you stupid fool!"

He knew her well enough by now to know that all those times she bit her lip and turned away from him, she was trying told back more than just herself.  She was holding back tears.  But tonight, that effort, at least, was in vain.  Tonight, before she pushed him away – and she had been hard when she pushed him away, too - and ran out those doors, he saw.  He knew she was weeping.


	3. Memories

The Tree

Memories

These were the things that went through his mind on the way home.  Intimate moments.  Memories of private conversations.

            As it turned out, the caves each had a small cot inside them, and a door.  They had gathered the mattress pads from each of the caves and piled them on top of each other.  Stashed in a corner, they had found some sheets that looked pretty clean, which they had placed on the mattresses, making a pretty comfortable, albeit, narrow bed.  And he had removed their chains.  With the door closed, the cave was very dark, but his unnaturally light-sensitive eyes allowed his eyes to adjust after a while.  She was sitting on the bed they had created.  He moved toward her and they ceremoniously removed their gloves.  His hand moved up to touch her face, but she flinched.

            "Sorry, sugah.  Force of habit."

            He tried again.  Again, she flinched.  *_She's nervous_,*  he thought.

            "Just relax, chere."  He tried again.

            "Wait!"

            "What?"

            "Well…well…should we be doin' this…Ah mean, shouldn't we be focusin' on tryin' ta get out or sumpthin'…Ah mean, what about our othah teammates…what if they're in trouble….we owe it to them…an' then, what about Nanny…if she should find us….or heck, even Spat and Grovel outside…what if they hear us…and, well, Ah've been havin' some trouble controlin' everyone up in mah head…what if one of them should surface…won't that get weird…an'…an' Ah know Ah'm ramblin'…Ah guess…Ah guess Ah'm jus' nervous that…oh how do Ah put this…if Ah taste your blood, Ah'll want more when Ah won't be able to…Ah mean at least now Ah don't know what Ah'm missin', right….oh, Ah know Ah'm getting' hysterical, but they are legitimate concerns an'…oh, shut me up, quick –"

            He kissed her, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close to him in a quick movement at the moment of her request.  She tensed up at the initial contact, but only for a moment, and she quickly relaxed into it, until she had practically melted in his arms.  She let out a light moan, and he realized how much he wanted to hear her do that again.  He deepened the kiss.  It had been such a long time since he had had this kind of contact with anyone – God, it felt so good – and he clung to her there for a long while, savoring the moment.  Finally, he released his lips from hers, but he kept his grip on her and his face close to his.  He waited for her to say something, but she just gasped.  So, he spoke first.

            "Chere…if you don' wanna do dis'…just say de word –"

            "No!"  She pulled a little farther from him so she could look him in the eye.  "Ah…Ah mean…yes…Ah mean….Ah do, Ah want to…Ah…it's just…"  she turned her head away from him.  "Ah don't know how," she whispered so softly he could barely hear it and he gathered it had taken a lot for her to admit.

            "Don' t'ink."

            She looked up him.  "Huh?"

            "You're t'inkin' too much.  Don't.  Stop it."

            He couldn't really see her confused expression in the dim light, but he could feel it.

            "Well…okay chere…it's like…oh, how do I describe this to you…it's like…like dancin'."

            "Dancin'?"

            "Yeah.  You know when you're out clubbin' and you're out there, on the dance floor…"

            "You don't think about it."

            "'Xactly.  You let de rhythm take you over and you just…move."

            "Move with the rhythm."

            "Right."

            "Right.  Ah kin do that."

            "Great.  So, that bein' said…" he pulled away from her, straightened out his posture, and put his hand out to her… "May I have dis dance?"

            She didn't reply.  She looked at his outstretched hand for a moment before she smiled, put her own hand in his and they let the rhythm of the darkness take them over.

He remembered one night that they had been together, a while back.  It was one of her more frustrated evenings.  It was the first warm night of the summer season that year.  They were outside, sitting at some random spot on the grounds of the mansion, looking at the crescent moon.  They had gotten on the subject of kissing.  He couldn't quite remember exactly how they had gotten on that subject.  It hurt her to talk about it, so they rarely ever did.  For that reason, alone, it would have stuck out in his mind, but he remembered this particular conversation for a different reason – the cigarette he had smoked during the discussion.

"It's been so long," she said sadly.  "Ah've nearly forgotten what it feels like.  Imagine that.  A kiss from me – a kiss for me.  It's something very rare.  Something very special.  It's so precious to me, it really is, because they're so scarce for me.  You'd think, me, of all people, would remember what it feels like, simply because of that.  But Ah can't.  Ah can't remember.  Ah'm tryin' so hard to, but Ah can't, Ah just can't.  Ah can't even remember what I was thinking during the few kisses Ah have had.  Hell, Ah can't even remember if Ah was thinkin' anything."

Amazed and hurt at the same time, his defense mechanisms kicked in.  A cocky smile crossed his face as he lit up a cigarette.

"Care ta be reminded by de best of 'em, chere?"

She turned and glared at him, meeting his wiry grin and arrogant tone with her own defense mechanism.

"No," she replied, coolly looking away.

"Aw, come on.  You know you want to."  She turned her back to him when he said that.  "I don't mind."  He knew he was injuring her, but he remembered being angry for something else that had happened that night, and though he couldn't remember what it was that had caused it, his anger prompted him to be so bold and so careless.

"Ah said no," she repeated, still not facing him or the cigarette that dangled from his lips, looking as though it would fall out at any moment.

"Why not?" he retorted.  He took the cigarette out of his mouth to say that one, then took another drag on it when he was through.

Before taking off into the night sky, she turned and, looking him straight in the eye, said "Because, it'd probably taste like cigarettes."

After getting over his shock at her shrewdness, and making sure she couldn't see him, he put out his half-finished cigarette.  He would never forget that cigarette.  It was the last cigarette he ever had.

They were fighting.  Again.  Having one of their many arguments, about the same old things.  What was her name.  What had he been up to the night before.  It had all gotten so repetitive.  It seemed like they spent more time arguing than anything else.  Finally, he snapped.

"I can' take dis no more!  Why are we doin' dis?  We argue an' we argue, but don' nobody get nowhere!  I'm sick o' it!  Sick o' fightin', sick o' you takin' me for granted, sick o' dis relationship just goin' 'round in circles!  W'as de point, heh?  De fightin' end here.  We eidder make some changes right here, right now, or we call it quits."

She said nothing.  Just stared at him for a moment, then turned her back on him and disappeared from his sight.  And at that moment, he regretted his outburst with everything inside him.  He didn't really want to lose her.  He cared about her too much for that.  At the same time, though, he really did want their cycles of arguing to stop.  Well, he had done that, he supposed.  He had just hoped that she would be big enough to sit down and work things out.  Still, he shouldn't have yelled. But as it was...

She approached him later that night in the rec room.  He was watching television, nothing he was terribly interested in, he was just trying to get his mind off the fact that he had let the best thing that had ever happened to him earlier that day.  He hadn't been getting very far, and her sudden presence wasn't helping.

"Can, we talk, sugah?"  It was that apologetic voice of hers.  She had come to break things off formally.

"Look, chere, about what I said earlier –"

"You're raght."

"Heh?"

"You're right.  We hurt each other too much.  Ah don't wanna lose you but things can't keep goin' this way.  Ah've been thinkin' an' this is an adult relationship.  We'd better start actin' like it."

She was willing to work on it with her.  She hadn't rejected him earlier, she just needed some time to think.  He tried desperately to not let his joy show on his face.

"So, now what?"

"Now...Ah don' know.  Well, we gotta stop yellin', fo' one."

"'Greed.  How 'bout...non more accusin'.  Dat never lead anyplace good."

"'K."

Just then, Betsy walked in.

            "Cough up the remote, Cajun, the news is on."

            "Well, ain't we polite tonight!  An' what if he wants to watch this show?"

            "Well, I figured since you two were talking again, you'd obviously made up since your argument earlier, so he's probably more engaged in that than...." She looked at the T.V. screen.  "The Facts of Life?"

            "Change it, Betsy, please!"  He tossed her the remote.  "We c'n talk someplace else."  Once they had made it out of the room, he turned to her.

             "'Nother t'ing we need: a quite place to talk.  Voices carry like crazy in dis ol' house.  Even in our rooms, even when dere ain't nobody in de room next door, de vents..."

            "Ah know what you're talkin' about.  Ah spent most o' the day lookin' for one, an' Ah think Ah may have the perfect place.  It'll be a little cozy, but it'll do."

            "Worth takin' a look at, I suppose."

            "Ah hoped you'd say somethin' that!"

            She led him to a closet in one of the upper floors of the mansion.  The top shelf held a few sleeping bags, but other than that, there was a large open space big enough for two people to fit inside comfortably, provided they weren't too shy.  Attached to the right wall was a ladder that lead to the top shelf of the closet and he followed her up.  At the top, he found that the roof was slanted above them, and there was a small skylight that they could open and close for some fresh air.  He noticed that she had already put a small fan on a beam next to them, as well as a tiny lamp and few pillows.

            "Ah hope it ain't too claustrophobic for ya.  Ah had a radio in here earlier, and checked all ovah the house.  Long as we keep our voices level, no one should here us."

            "It's perfect, chere!"  He turned to smile at her, and the brief light in her own face filled him with even more joy.  She sobered quickly, though, as did he when he remembered what they were there for.

"We can talk about anythin' here, sugah.  Ah say we start with tryin' ta set things straight.  Few ground rules first.  No yellin' an' no accusin', like we discussed earlier.  We're gonna ask each other questions, back and forth, and be totally honest with each othah here, an' if there's somethin' we aitn' ready to share just yet, just say so, an' that'll be a good enough answer."

"K."

 "An' one other thing.  You can't ask me what my name is."

"What!?"

"_And_, you get to pick something Ah absolutely can't ask you about."

"I suppose dat's fair."  He thought for a second.  "K.  I know I've told you dis before, but don' ask me 'bout Seattle."  She agreed.

"Y'll got any othah ground rules?"

"Well, yeah.  Dere are some t'ings I know...secrets from my underground contacts dat ain't my secrets to tell."

"Ah understand.  You have an obligation to them...like Ah do to the people Ah absorb.  So, we just ask 'bout each othah."

"Sounds good ta me."

"Ah can't think o' anything else.  Can you sugah?"

"Whatever we say in here stays between us, no matter what happens in de future."

"Course.  Ah thought that was a given.  Anything else?"

"No."

"Aight.  We start then."

 "Guess I'll start wit' de obvious.  Why won't you tell me yo' name?  Or anyone fo' that matter.  Is it really that embarrassin'?"

"No, it ain't that.  Rogue's a nickname Ah've had since before Ah was born.  Apparently, I was really hard on my momma, even before Ah was born, an' she was sittin' around with my grandparents.  Grandpappy insisted Ah'd be a boy, Momma said Ah'd be a girl, and then Ah started kickin' her, and mah grandmother said 'Nope.  Y'll are both wrong.  That chile's gwonna be a rogue!'"  He laughed a little at her falsetto grandmother impression.  "The name jus' stuck, even after Ah was born.  Then, when mah parents kicked me out it was right painful.  Ah was so scared an' mad an' hurt all at de same time.   Mah parents had disowned me, an' Ah wanted ta disown 'em back, but Ah had no way o' doin' that.  The only thin' they left me with was my real name.  So, I vowed never to use it again.  It was kinda my way of rejectin' them, not that ah really think it means too much to them, but it does ta me.  Grandma had nothin' ta do with me leavin', an' everyone but a few family members evah called me by anythin' othah than her name fo' me anyway, so it was an obvious choice."

"Guess dat makes sense.  I remember how hurt I felt when I was exiled by my adopted family."

"Ah almost told you mah name once, but you stopped me.  Why?"

"Well, partly because, I figured I'd have to share some t'ings with you that I wasn't ready to share just yet.  And, well, at the time it didn't really matter to me much.  After all, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.  Names are arbitrary.  At the time, I was aimin' at getting to know **you**.  Why'd you offer to tell me?"

"It was my way o' opening up to you.  I couldn't open up physically to you, and it was the best substitute Ah could think of.  Why does knowin' mah name matter so much to you now?"

"I guess I'd like to know that you're still willing to open up to me.  You know how when you're kids an' you share stupid secrets that are kept just between you and your friends that you absolutely don't tell anyone else about.  I want that between us.  Kinda childish, I know, but it would make me feel special jus' knowin'."

"Ah see."

"Tell me, chere.  How do you feel about Mystique?"

"Ah have kinda mixed feelings.  She did care about me when I had no one else to turn to, literally, an' Ah love her fo' that at least.  Ah don't agree with her methods, or her beliefs fo' that matter, an' Ah know she used me, as much as she was helpin' me, just like she uses everyone, but Ah do believe she loved me in her own way."  She paused as she considered her next question.  "So...Do you still love Belle?"

"Yes an' no.  I guess I have de same kind o' mixed feelin's for her as you do for Mystique, in a way.  I love who she was, or who I t'ought she was.  More den dat, tho' I think I was excited by what we had.  But looking back now, I realize that we didn't have much.  Puppy love at best – fuckin' if you really wanted to strip it down.  But she was my first, an' I do think she cared about me in her own way.  She'll always be a part of me, I can' deny dat.  But the Belle I cared for is dead, dat I do believe fo' certain."  Pause.  "What was Joseph to you?"

"A fellow lost soul.  Actually, he reminded me a lot of you.  A very powerful mutant capable of doin' a lot of good but who was still tryin' to come to terms with his checkered past.  Wow.  You two really weren't all that different."

"Dat all?"

"Well, Ah did think he was kinda cute."

"T'ought so."

"If you could go back an' live yo' life over again, knowin' what you know now, but you could only change one thing, what would it be?"

"Wow!  Now dere's a loaded question.  I only get one?"

"Yeah."

He paused for along while.  What, of all the things that he had done, did he regret the most?

"Oh, c'mon, sugah.  It ain't dat hard is it?" she finally exploded impatiently.

"Fo' me, yeah it is.  I imagine it would be fo you, too."

"Y'll think I'd ask you that without knowin' mah own answer?"

"You have **one** den?"

"Sure do."

"Well, I can' decide."

She paused, letting that set in.

"Aight."

"I'll get back to you if do I pick one."

"Okay."

"So what's you're 'one'?"

"Leaving you in Antarctica," she replied without hesitation.

"Really?  I'd of thought it was absorbin' Cody or Carol Danvers or somet'in'."

"Ah thought about those.  But at the time, Ah really didn't know what the consequences would be.  Lookin' back, Ah doubt Ah could've stopped Cody – or anyone else for that matter – from touchin' me eventually.  If it hadn't been Cody, it woulda happened to someone, sooner or later.  As for Carol, much grief as she caused me, Ah nevah would have ended up with the X-Men if it hadn't been for her.  Besides...I do kinda like her powers.  Kind of a guilty secret of mine.  When Ah left you, Ah heard you an' everyone else tellin' me that it was what you deserved.  Ah knew exactly what Ah was doin' an' how much it would hurt you, an' Ah did it anyway, even though _Ah_ didn't believe you deserved it.  Ah gave inta what everybody was tellin' me, even though I knew it was wrong, an' that's unforgivable."

"I see."

She whispered his name.   "Do you really think Ah take you fo' granted?"

            "Well, ah...."  He was totally stumped.  He had remembered saying it – along with a lot of other things – and he sure felt it sometimes.  But to answer that?  He didn't want to lose her again.

            "Quit tryin' ta analyze the question an' answer it truthful, sugah."

            He hadn't stalled for that long, but she had become so good at reading him these days, it almost frightened him.  He again thought about lying to her, but her eyes told him that she not only wanted the truth, but that she could take it.

            "Well, sometimes.  Yeah."

"Ah'm sorry.  Ah do care about you, Ah hope you know that.  Ah've just never been in a real relationship before you, so Ah don't really know how to go about dealin' with this.  Ah'm a woman now, but relationship wise, Ah'm at a teenager's level.  So, Ah'm sorry."

"'Pology accepted."

"That means a lot ta me.  Ah'll try to work on it, but you've gotta help me."

"Sure t'ing.  Hey chere?  Dose secrets dat you talkin' about havin' absorbed from other people?  What do you remember from absorbin' me?"

"You?"  A little smirk escaped her.  "Ah know that you cry at the end of 'An American Tale' when Fifel finds his family."  He turned bright red.

"You know 'bout dat?" he asked her softly.

"Oh, sugah, it's nothin' ta get embarrassed about!  I think it's cute!"

"I'm afraid to ask what else you remember."

"Ah know that you've actually managed to lose your accent, but you use it all the time anyway, so people underestimate you – an' cuz y'all know that the women like it, and I must confess, Ah am a guilty party.  Let's see, Ah know that you are secretly a die-hard "Star Trek: The Next Generation" fan, but you'll die ifn' any o' the other X-Men find out, though Ah can't figure out _why_.  Ah don't even think _you_ know.  An'...an' Ah know that you have a little girl.  That her momma doesn't want you around.  That you send a check to her every month, and every month it comes back to you.  That you love your daughter even though you've never met her.  How ashamed you are that you don't even know her name, or her birthday."

"I was gonna tell you about that..."

"When?"  She didn't seem angry about his bastard child, as he feared she would be.  She seemed more hurt that he hadn't told her.  "When is it ever a good time to tell yo' girlfriend that you have a child by another woman?"

"Well, it don' seem to matter much, does it?  You know anyway."

"That's not the point, sugah, and you know it.  Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, if you did absorb it from me, then I did tell you, in a way."

That was low blow and her only response was an angry look mixed with annoyance.  He could sense they were getting back into their old habits of arguing again, and he was the one getting defensive now.  He really didn't want to go in that direction again, and she was doing a good job of keeping her temper, all things considered.  So, it was up to him to change his attitude.  He considered a different approach.

"Well, it's like you said, chere.  When is it a good time to tell the woman you love dat you have an enfant wit' anodder femme?  I was afraid that if I did, I'd lose you."

"You gotta get ovah this fear you have of losing me.  You say you care about me, that you wanna be with me, and Ah feel the same way.  But at the same time, Ah find myself feelin' all too often that you don't let me into your life.  Ah'm not that untrustworthy an'...well, Ah admit I...Ah can be pretty judgmental sometimes, but you gotta have a little faith in me – in **us**."

"No, it's not dat, it's just...I...maybe it's more dat I don't have faith in myself."  The last part had been hard to admit, and she could tell.

"Aight.  So, Ah've gotta work on showing you that Ah care – and not being so judgmental."

"An' I've gotta work on my self-esteem.  So, dat all you remember from my memories?"

"Well, Ah can't be sure, but I think you've slept with a nun."

"I didn't know she was nun!" he blurted out.  She just laughed at him.  It took a lot for him to blush about much of anything, but for the second time that night, his face turned red.

"Well, technically, chere, she wasn't a nun yet.  But, yeah, dat, actually was somet'ing I could've died without lettin' _anybody_ know."

She laughed a little.

"Yeah, you'd better hope nobody does, either.  Personally, Ah jus' find it amusin', but if someone like Bobby were ta find out, you'd _nevah_ hear the end o' that one!"

"Yeah, you're probably right," he chuckled.  "Um...chere...I don' suppose you know when this little incident took place?"

"After Antarcica."

"Oh.  So you do know."

"You sound surprised."

"Well, it's jus', you're takin' all dis so well.  My havin' a kid, sleepin' wit' other women after I met you."

"Well, I have had some time to deal with it.  An' it's not really like y'all were cheatin' on me or anythin' on either accounts.  You didn't know me when your kid was born.  As for the nun...well, it wasn't like either of us thought we'd evah see each other again an' I know that you were feelin' very lonely at the time.  An' that the whole time you were with the nun, you wished it was me.  An'…Ah'm also pretty sure that she's the only other woman you've been with since we met.  But it also goes back to what Ah said earlier 'bout havin' faith in me."

"I see what you mean, chere."

"Sugah?'

"Yes, chere?"

"Tell me honestly.  Are you really okay with not bein' able to touch?"

"Yes..."

"You don't sound too sure about that."

"Well, chere, it's not so much the touchin' I miss so much as de show of affection.  Dey say dat action speak louder den words, and t'ink dat's pretty true.  Dere are some times where I just get the urge to kiss you, just ta show dat I care.  I know dere's so much more to love den touchin', but I would like ta be able ta jus' hold you wit'out worryin'."

A sad, lonely sigh escaped her lips.

"Hey, I only t'ink of it as a temporary setback, though chere.  You gotta get dat notion you're head, too, chere.  You tell me dat i gotta have faith in you.  Well, I'm tellin' you de same t'ing – ta have faith in yo'self."

"Maybe, in the meantime, we could come up with little gestures.  Our own personal shows of affection."

"Like what?"

"Hum...."

She snuggled up close to him, placing her head on his shoulder.  He reveled in the feel of her body near his own and took a deep inhalation of her magnolia perfume.  As he put his arm around her, he thought that it was the greatest feeling in the world.

"Ah kinda like this."

"Ummm, me too, chere."

He kissed the top of her head and tightened his arms around her.

"We gotta come up wit' somthin' else that's all our own, though."  Much to his disappointment, she pulled out of his grip to face him with a contemplative look.  He seemed to reflect her pensiveness, when he thought of something.  He reached out with both hands toward her face, bring his fingers closer to the top of her eyes.  She waited until the last second to close her eyelids before he let the tips of his fingers gently grazing the tips of her eyelids.  She lingered there for a moment, reveling in the contact, even if it was through cloth gloves.  She finally opened her eyes, and gave him a sweet smile before placing two gloved fingers on her lips before pressing them to his own.  He kissed them back, causing the grin on her face to widen, a light shade of pink to touch her cheeks, and giggle to come from behind her smile.

"Ah like that."

"I got another one."

"'K."

He leaned in and quick as lightning, placed the softest of kisses on her cheek.  She stared back at him in shock, and for a moment, he thought she would get angry with him, but to his delight, she only seemed worried about him.

"You okay, sugah?"

"I'm a little woozy, but other than that, I don't t'ink I've ever felt better, chere.  How 'bout you chere?"

She took a moment to contemplate.

"Well, I don't think Ah got too much of anything from you."

"Yes chere, but how do you _feel_?"

It was now her turn to blush.  She opened her mouth to answer him, but nothing came out.  She ducked her head as if to hide her rosy face and giggled.  He could tell it was really setting in what he had just done.

"Ah feel incredible.  Like Ah could fly, even without my powers," she finally managed to say to him.  He felt his warmest smile cross his face.

"Alright.  I'm happy usin' dose to show our affection, and I'm sure we'll t'ink of other things, too."

"Sugah?"

"Yes, amour?"

"Promise me you'll be careful with that last one?" The giddiness had disappeared from her face and her voice was filled with worry.  He took her back in his arms, and he felt his heart soar when she responded by cuddling up to him.

"I promise, chere," and he kissed the top of her head again.  They stayed there for a while before he remembered anther question he had for her.

"Tell me more about your family, chere.  Yo' real family.  You have any blood relatives you haven't mentioned to anyone before?"

"Oh, Ah have plenty."

"Well, who do you miss de most, den?"

"Mah sister.  Her name's Ruby.  She'd be about...seventeen now?  She was the one thin' Ah really regretted leaving behind.  Ah wonder about her a lot.  How she's doin', if she's a mutant, too.  Then Ah start wonderin' what her powers might be, when she discovered them, if she was treated the same way Ah was when everyone found out, or if she's able to hide it, if it would be safe to send her a letter, if she'd like a letter from me.  Those kinda things."  She yawned and checked her watch.  "Oh, mah, it's late!  We'll have to continue this some othah time, sugah.  I'm exhausted!"

"Chere?  One last t'ing.  Since you brought it up, and since we're bein' completely honest...it's somet'ing you either didn't absorb, or forgot about.  I don' have a daughter.  Not anymore.  She...was killed.  An' I did meet her before she...her name is...was Emilie.  She was born on September 16th.  She was nine when she..." he trailed off.

"You feel responsible for her death.  Heck, you'd fell responsible if it had happened while you were on the other side o' the world an' it didn't have nothin' ta do with ya.  But you were there, when it happened, weren't you?" she said as though she had known it all along.

It amazed him how intuitive she could be sometimes, especially with him.  Or maybe she was remembering....

"Guess you do remember."

"Oh, sugah....Ah'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," he said, but she hugged him to her anyway.  He then turned to head for the door, his beloved turning off the light and closing the sunlight before following down behind him.

"Coming out of the closet I see, Cajun.  Somehow, I always knew."  It was Bobby.  _Of course it's Bobby_, he thought.  _Why did it have to be Bobby?_  His amour appeared before he could think of a witty come back, though, and look on Bobby's face was priceless.

"Hey, Bobby," she said as she came up to her lover's side and slipped her hand in his.  He gave Bobby a very cocky grin and did his best to hold in his laughter when Bobby actually _said_ "A-duh...."

"So, I guess you two made up.  What were you two doing in the storage closet?" Bobby finally managed to get out after fumbling around his tongue a bit.

"Ah hid a few things in here a while back.  Didn't remember 'bout 'em 'til recently, and Ah wanted to see if Bastion had spared them.  Had no such luck, though.  The Cajun here was helpin' me look."  _Mon Dieu, she's a good liar!_ He thought.

"We're off to bed now," she continued.  "'Night, Drake," and with that, the couple headed down the hall to bid one another good night before Bobby could even stammer his own farewells.

            Through conversations like these in their little hole, grew **very close.  They had stopped playing games; stopped fooling around.  With some effort, they had begun controlling their tempers; stopped the on-again-off-again cycle.  Started a real relationship.  And they had told each other everything.  Every dark little secret, every hope, fear and dream of the past, present and future.  And they still found the strength to love each other and to let their love grow, despite it all.  Despite what the others thought of their seemingly forgotten crevice, it was not a place for them to hide or run to.  They thought of it more as a place to be alone together.  To have some privacy. In a house with so many people living in it, a blossoming relationship needs a place like that.**

            All he had been to her was a lowly snake charmer, he knew that.  He had gotten tired of that. She deserved to be treated like a princess, he knew that, too.  So, he tried to become the prince charming she deserved.  He worked so hard at it.  Once he made his decision, everything he did was for her, from spending time with her in their secret place, to leaving Hershey's kisses on her pillow every now and then; from working on thinking before he actually spoke to confessing his deepest darkest secrets to her.  It was all for her.  And he noticed she had stopped calling him "snake charmer."

She seemed to have picked up another habit, though.  Sometimes, at their deepest, most intimate moments, just when it seemed she had melted in his arms and lost herself in his eyes, she seemed to shiver.  She would then bite her bottom lip and turn her back on him.  It always hurt him a little, but he knew why she did it.  He couldn't blame her for it.  After all, she was just looking out for both of them.  So, the one thing he chose not to tell her about was the tiny twinge of pain that went through him when she turned away at these moments.  Besides, the hurt was more brought on by reason why she had to turn away, and she already knew about that, without even having to be told.  What's more, he knew her pain far exceeded his own at these moments.

The movement itself, he noticed, took on a kind of evolution.  Once they had gotten serious about this twisted relationship of theirs, he noticed a higher frequency of these occurrences as their relationship grew stronger.  And, the closer they seemed to get emotionally, the longer it took her to turn away, and the farther she seemed to push him.

            They had tried using power suppressor.  Once.  For about forty minutes.  It had been created to look like a necklace.  It had taken him quite some time to convince her to wear it, and she was still quite reluctant.  Her first experience wearing one had been horrifying, and the less she could relive of that experience, the better.  But he did convince her.  He took her first to Harry's for a couple of burgers.  Some place familiar, someplace they could feel comfortable.  Or at least so he thought.

She was antsy.  She was still dressed very conservatively, even though it was rather warm out.  Long sleeves, mock turtleneck, gloves, the whole deal, as though she was making an obvious point of not drop the long-practiced habit.  Normally, when they were in their favourite booth, they hardly noticed anything that went on in the restaurant.  But she kept looking up at the door whenever someone came in, and sometimes, when no one was there, like she was expecting to see someone or something there she was afraid of seeing.

"C'mon, chere.  You haven't even touched your food.  We're payin' good money for it."

"That's not true.  Ah had a few fries.  Ah'm just not that hungry, that's all.  We can take it to go.  Maybe I'll work up more of an appetite later."

She never ate much when something was wrong.

She looked up at the door.

"Chere?"

She snapped back at him, her eyes no longer the emerald he loved so much, but an icy blue, staring back him, cold, unrelenting, and yet, strangely familiar.  In one quick movement, she reached across the table, grabbed him by the shirt with her left hand, put the knuckles of her right hand up to his temple and pulled his face right up to hers.

"What do you want, **bub**?"  Her voice was gruff, her southern drawl having completely disappeared.  She and Hank had managed to get her recently mutated powers under control to an extent.  The personalities, memories and powers of those she had come into contact with no longer surfaced randomly, but now, with her own powers negated by the collar...  And, just as suddenly as this personality had appeared, it disappeared.  She let him go and she was back to her old self, looking up at the door, as if nothing had happened.  She had drawn some attention to herself, though, and she quickly felt the eyes of people seated in near-by booths staring at her.

"What just happened?'

He knew what had happened.  Someone she had come in contact with had surfaced.  Without her powers, she couldn't always keep them under control, and Logan had gotten out.  Just for a second.

But he didn't tell her that.  He didn't have to – the sympathetic and still slightly shocked look on his face told her and she looked away, embarrassed.

"C'mon, chere, let's get outta dis place."

"Good idea."

The fresh air didn't seem to do much good, though.  She still hung her head shamefully as they walked to his motorcycle, arms folded tightly in front of her.  Once they made it to his bike, before he handed her a helmet, he stopped in front of her and put his hand on her cheek.  She flinched.  He wasn't sure if it was a force of habit or if she had been so absorbed in her own thoughts that he had genuinely startled her.  Perhaps it was both.  He lifted her face to look at him.  He saw fear in her eyes.

"Hey…Jus'…relax chere.  You're too tense.  Stop worrying so much.  It's jus' you an' me, chere.  I won't let anything happen to you.  Promise."

She took a deep breath in and let her arms drop to her sides.  He mounted the bike and started it up as she put on her helmet and took her place on the seat behind him.

"You good to go?"

"Yeah."  He could barely hear her over the engine, and he still sensed some awkwardness emitting from her.  However, he did feel her tight grip around his waist, her body against his back, and her chin resting on his shoulder, so he pulled out of the parking place.

The wind his hair did him some good, and he thought he could feel her finally starting to relax.  After a few minutes, they began to resume their old closeness, and it felt like old times again; the two of them cruising on his Harley, with nowhere in particular to go.  But just as he thought things were really starting to get back to their old intimacy, he heard the woman behind him say, in a dialect – in a voice – that he would recognize anywhere – that was part of his blood, part of his soul:

"_Ooooo_ faster!  C'mon you filt'y t'ief.  Gimme dat shugah rush dat I looove so much!"

Belladonna.  

He wasn't quite sure what to do.  Stop?  See if she's okay?  Just keep going like it hadn't happened?

"Sugah….Please….Stop the motorcycle…."  He had barely heard her this time.  Her voice was soft.  Scared.  Faltering.  And pleading.  But it was her own voice this time.  He found a grassy area, pulled over and turned the engine off.  She took off her helmet as though she couldn't get it off fast enough, thrusting herself off the bike at the same time, but her coordination wasn't quite adequate, and she landed on the grass.  He hurried to get off the bike and on the grass next to her.

"You okay, chere?"

But she hardly seemed to notice him.  Indeed, she hardly seemed to notice anything, including her fall.  She just grabbed her head with both hands, closed her eyes tight and groaned and convulsed in pain.

"Chere?!"

"Ahhhhh…."  She shook her head, as if trying to shake out all the voices he knew were plaguing her.  Her hands clutched tighter, and she looked like she was about to rip her hair out.  Afraid that she would hurt herself, he moved closer toward her, and was about to restrain her when she lunged at him.  Her eyes had turned a sickly yellow, fangs that had not been there a moment ago glinted, venom-like saliva dripping from the tips.  Even without her powers, she was still an incredibly strong woman, and she managed to knock him over onto his back.  He caller out her name, appealing to the woman he loved.  He was still trying to restrain her without hurting her while at the same time dodging the blows she dealt him and the slashes from the claws that weren't there.  Finally she stopped, returning to her normal self, and looking rather surprised at ending up on top of him.  She whispered his name.

"Chere?"

"You okay?  Did Ah hurt you?"

"Fine Chere.  Well, a little shaken up, but…"

She sat down on the grass next to him and he sat up.

"What just happened?  Who surfaced?  Ah…Ah can't remember…"

"It doesn't matter."

She looked away.

"No.  Ah guess it doesn't."

She placed her hands over her face and began to sob.

"Ah can't do this any longah.  Ah'm sorry sugah.  I know you thought we'd found a way to be together, but…Ah can't do this anymore…With mah powers negated, Ah'm fightin' just for control, and when Ah am in control, Ah keep thinkin' some Genoshan guard's gonna come out and take me an' Ah'm just too scared and fightin' too hard to enjoy any of it….Ah'm so sorry!"

"It's okay, Chere.  Take it off.  Shhh, shhh, stop cryin' amor, please.  We'll find another way.  I'm sorry for forcin' you inta dis."

He kissed her cheek softly.

"Shhh.  Don' cry."

She looked up at him a moment.  He could see tears still in her eyes.  She kissed him softly.  Her lips were blissfully soft and warm.  His hands reached for her sides as he deepened the kiss.  They stayed there on the grass, savoring the moment.  Finally, she pulled away and without looking at him, took the necklace off and crushed it the palm of her hand.  After a few moments, he heard her start to cry again.

He moved closer to her, so that he was sitting right next to her, put his arms around her and he let her place her head on his chest.  He kissed the top of her head, taking in the sent of her hair while he did so.  She wrapped her arms around him.  He closed his eyes tight, in a failed attempt to suppress his own tears.  They sat there for a long time, holding each other long past both their tears had dried up before going home in silence.

"Look chere, I'm tellin' you, we could look inta dis.  Dere are some cultures where they don' touch while makin' love."

"Where, Afghanistan?"

He had thought she'd be more a little more open to this, but instead, she just looked horrified.

"Act'lly, I don' remember.  Well, what about de other t'ings I suggested?"

"What, fondle each othah, like a couple of high schoolers who's parents are away for the weekend?"

"Well, it's somethin' to consider.  No, I mean…oh, you're twisting it!  It's an option – a way for us to be intimate.  Look, if we just got a little creative –"

"But it's not the same."

"No.  It's not, I know dat, and I'm not tryin' ta pretend dat it is.  You know, I t'ought you'd be a little more open ta dis."

"Well, Ah'm sorry that the prospect of pleasurin' each other…"

"But chere, you ain't even givin' it a real chance.  Who knows you may just enjoy bein' pleasured."

She let out a frustrated sigh.

"Ah was afraid this would happen.  Ever since we were together in Antarctica…bein' with you…it was just so wonderful that anything less just won't cut it."

"Look, mon amore.  It would just be a temporary way for us to be together..."

"Ah know you're tryin', but after knowin' the real thing…this just seems so…wrong…and…and besides that it's jus'….well, it just seems to me that we'd just be foolin' around, an'….and Ah thought we were done with that."

"I…I don't…I can't argue with dat."  He sighed.  "You're not going to change your mind on dis one, are you?"

"No."

And that was the end of that discussion.

There were some days of the year where she was in particularly touchy.  This was one of those days.

She would have preferred to be out on an assignment on a day like this one, but things had been slow lately, and she had been stuck at home. He had tried to convince her to go do something, but all his attempts were thwarted.  She insisted on staying home, feeling sorry for herself.  Of course, she didn't use those words to him, but he knew that's what she would do.

Around four o'clock, she decided to venture outside the confines of her room to quench her thirst.  On the way back, she saw Jean and Scott kissing in the hall.  They looked so happy.  It made her furious, watching them so close together, and in her tormented mixture of pain, anguish and rage, she had the sudden urge to lunge at them with all her force, to rip them apart, after all, if she was miserable, why shouldn't they be, too?  In all her fury, she broke the water-filled glass she held in her hand, shattering it all over the floor.  It got their attention.  And hers.

Scott was a little startled, and guilty as he said her name.  He and Jean had always tried to keep their show of affections minimal when she was around, because they knew how it hurt her.  Jean was usually pretty good about pulling away whenever she sensed their green-eyed friend coming around the corner, but today, her mid was...elsewhere.

"Here, let me help you with that," he said as he moved down the hall toward her.

"No, it's okay, Ah got it.  You might hurt yourself," she replied, and as she knelt down to gather up the broken fragments that had scattered around the floor, she scolded herself silently for the thoughts she had been having just a moment ago.  She had wanted to hurt them so bad, but they didn't deserve it.  They were her friends, and it wasn't like they were the ones responsible for making her the way she was.

It was Jean who ended up picking up every last shard and sliver with her mind before Scott could even get to the mess.  As the broken pieces were on their way to the nearest trash, and a towel was on its way to soak up the spilled water, Jean asked her if everything was okay.

"Yeah, sure," the couple's friend replied after a moment's hesitation that she knew the couple had noticed, but hoped they hadn't just the same.  "Ah – Ah was a little startled.  Didn't expect to see anyone in the hall, that's all."

An awkward silence fell as Scott and Jean contemplated confronting her and the obvious lie she had just told them. She broke the silence before they had a chance to decide.

 "Well, go on, git on outta here.  Y'all wait around here any longah you'll be late for yo' reservations." She was on the ground, soaking up the spilt water, trying desperately to hide her face from them, lest the tears welling up in her throat made their way to the surface.

Jean was at her side  "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked as she reached out toward her friend.

**"Don' touch me!" she screamed, putting her hands up in defense.**

"Right.  Of course.  I'm sorry."  Jean was so shocked, she barely managed to get her apology out, and was still barely audible.

"Ah'm **fine, Jean.  Now go.  If Ah find out you don't git a good meal all because Ah broke a stupid glass, Ah'll..."  Realizing she was still screaming, she took a second to calm down before continuing.  "Just go, alright?"**

Scott found it rather funny that, even now, this woman could still think about food, but he dared not laugh.  Especially not today.  He decided that the best thing for them all would, indeed, be getting out of there while he and his wife still had their heads, and they left in another awkward silence.

She got up to put the wet towel in the hamper when she saw him standing in the shadows of the corridor.  Most anyone else would have been surprised to see him there, but not her.  After all these years, she had grown used to his sneaking around.  She didn't like it, but had managed to no longer be alarmed by it.

"Whudur **you starin' at?"**

He didn't answer.  He just stared at her with eyes that said they had seen everything that had just happened.  Eyes that begged her to talk to him.

"Ah hate this day.  **Hate it!  Ah feel like the whole world's mocking me – like everyone's torturing me!  It ain't fair!  Why should they git all the fun?"**

"Cuz you wouldn't let me plan anything for you for today, chere."

"You know perfectly well –"

"I know," and with that he began to move in on her.

"I just wanna git this day ovah with."

With his gloved index finger, he lifted her chin gently so that his gaze met hers.

 "You know, chere – you and I – I mean, we do have somethin' Scott and Jean don' have."

"Oh yeah, such as?"

"We can look into each other's eyes.  If Scott and Jean did that, they'd both be pretty upset."

"Yeah, so?"

"They say tha' de eyes are de windows to de soul, you know.  And what beautiful green windows you have, petit."

She pulled away from him.

"Stop tryin' ta flattah me, Ah ain't in the mood –"

"I wasn't tryin' ta do dat, chere –"

"**Besides that, Jean don't need to look into anyone's eyes to see into their soul.  She's got more than a window, she's got the keys to the door, especially into Sco –"**

"Into his **mind, chere, not his soul."**

"Even if Ah do believe that there's a difference, do you really think that's gonna make up for what we can't have?"

"No, 'course not.  But it's something."

"You finished?"

"Why, so you can go back in your room to pout?"

"Yeah, you got a problem with that?"

"Yeah.  Trut' is, girl – even though you asked me not to – I do have something for you."

"Ah done tol' you –"

"I know, I know.  Look it's nothin' big and elaborate, but I want you to have it jus' de same."

A pause.

"Alright, boy, what is it?"

"You ever read _Peter Pan, chere?"_

"Yeah, a long time ago.  Honestly, Ah don' remember much from it.  But what's that got ta do with anything?"

"Jus' bear wit' me a while, 'k girl?"

Her eyes narrowed in skepticism, but she didn't object, so he continued.

"Well – it's been a while since I read it, too – but, for some reason, the other day, I remembered something from it."  He took her hands in his.  "Remember – at de very beginning – when Wendy first meets Peter, and she wants ta give him a kiss, but he doesn't know what dat is.  So, he puts out his hand, waiting for her ta give him an object.  Well, she had been sewing his shadow back on, and all she had to give him is a thimble, so she puts dat in his hand.  Then he 'kisses' her back by givin' her a button, and it ends up savin' her life when Toodles shoots her down."

"Where you goin' with this, boy?"  He had really sparked her interest, now.

"Well, dis here's a special kinda kiss from me to you."

A very confused look crossed her face when he let go of her hands and backed took a single step backward.  She was a little hurt that he had pulled away, but she quickly realized that he had slipped something into her hands.  She opened them up and looked down to see a thimble resting in the palm of her hand.

She opened her mouth to say something, to tell him everything she was feeling at that moment, of everything she had been feeling that day.  But try as she might, she couldn't convince her lips to form the words.  She just stood there stammering.  So, he moved toward her and, carefully – very carefully – she rested her head on his chest, letting the tears that she had been holding in all day come pouring out for his shirt to soak up.

There were some days of the year where she was in particularly touchy.  This was one of those days.  But he had managed to soften her, even on this day.  This was Valentine's Day.

He had just gotten in from doing some underground work for the professor and was very much looking forward to getting himself re-acquainted with his pillow when there came a knock on the door.  Wondering who might be up at three in the morning, wondering if maybe some emergency had come up and that he wouldn't be seeing his pillow anytime soon, he answered the door.  She was standing there in nothing but a nightshirt that indeed flattered her very nicely, but was rather scanty for her to be wearing.  At first he was happy to see her – the sight of her always made him happy – but he soon recognized the frightened, worried look on her face.

"Chere?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but Ah saw the light on, so Ah..."

"S'okay, I was up. What's wrong?"

"Ah...had a nightmare.  Couldn't go back to sleep."

He wanted more than anything to reach out and hold her, to set her on the bed and tell her that everything would be all right.  But, dressed, in nothing but his boxers, there wasn't too much he could do.

            "Stay right there, chere," and he closed the door on her.

            He reappeared presently, dressed from the neck down in his favorite pair of pajama pants, the lightest long-sleeved shirt he had, light socks and his softest pair of gloves.

            "Sorry ta keep you waitin' out dere all by yo' lonesome, chere.  Won't you please come in?" he said as he pulled her in, shutting the door behind her.

            He sat them on the bed and she snuggled up to him.

            "You wanna tell moi what your nightmare was about?"

            "Ah really don't remember much of it.  It's all kinda hazy.  There was a man, at least I think he was a man.  It was hard to tell, like he kept shiftin' into a monster.  It was dark, an' Ah didn't wanna be dere, but Ah had ta.  Ah don't remember why, Ah just remember thinkin' that Ah had to be there."

            "Do you have dis dream often, chere?"

            "Ah have been lately, Ah think.  At first, Ah really couldn't remember much o' anythin' from it once Ah woke up, but it keeps gettin' clearer and clearer an' easier ta remember.  Fo' some reason, Ah get this feelin' dat it's someone's memory, but Ah can't figure out who's.  It always wakes me up, though, and if Ah do get back ta sleep afterwards, Ah don't sleep too well.  It's been gettin' ta be a real problem, lately."

            The dream seemed chillingly familiar and he wondered if maybe it wasn't one of his memories.  He kissed the top of her head and leaned his cheek on the same spot, careful that her hair protected him from skin contact.

            "You wanna stay here tonight, den?"  He didn't mean it as any kind of innuendo, merely an offer she could take or refuse without him thinking any less or more of her for it – a way of telling her that he was there for her if she needed him.  He had tried his best to get that across in his tone of voice, but he began to wonder how successful he had been when he felt her tense up in his arms.

            "Ah...no, Ah don't think that would be a good idea..."

            "You don't sound too sure about dat, chere."

            "Look, Ah just wanted to talk to someone about it, thought maybe that'd help."

            "Okay.  You're welcome to stay as long as you like, though chere."

            "Ah should go, though.  It's late, and we both need sleep."

            He lamented the thought of having to let her go, but she didn't pull away from him.  In fact, she seemed to cling to him even more.  He was content to let her, but he sensed that there was something more that she wanted to say.

            "Dere's somet'ing else, though, ain't dere?  Tell me de truth, now, chere."

            "Ah don't wanna be alone tonight, sugah," she whispered so low he could barely hear it.

            "Den stay."

            "But we need to sleep, an' we can't stay like this all night."

            "Do you trust me?"

            "'Course Ah do, sugah, but what's that got ta do –"

            "Lay down," he cut her off as he shoved aside some of the covers for her.

            "But –"

            "Trust me."  She looked him straight in the eye and he could see the nervousness there, but she finally moved to lay down after a moment.  He stood up to give her room and pulled the covers up to her chin.  He went to a near-by chair, grabbed himself a throw blanket that had found its way over there, and made his way around to the other side of the bed.  He laid down on top of the covers and pulled the throw blanket over himself, turned to his beloved, and gave her a large grin.

            "Est-ce que c'est bon?"* he asked her as tenderly and confidently as he could.

            "Y'll really expect us to sleep like this?"

            "Sure, why not?"

            "Well, what if...what if we touch durin' the night?"

            "I don' roll around too much.  Do you?"

            "Well, Ah don't really know.  An' what about you?  Ya gonna be warm enough?"

            "'Course I will, mon cour."*  Despite his best efforts to re-assure her, she was still tense.  "Relax, chere.  It'll be just fine.  I'm pretty well covered, and you're under de covers.  I'm a light sleeper, so if you start gettin' really restless, I'll just wake you up.  How does that sound?"

            Still that God-awful worried stare.

            "Trust me, chere."

She didn't say anything, but she did lighten up a little and did her best to give him a weak smile.  He pressed his index and middle finger to his lips and placed them on hers.  She kissed back.

"Chere?  Tell me more about the dream."  He was afraid to ask, but he had to know…

"Like Ah said, Ah really don't remember much."

"De man…do you remember anythin' about him?"

"Well, like Ah said, it's dark."  She spoke the rest as though she was realizing it for the first time.  "_He's_ dark, in more ways than one.  Ah think he called himself Snake.  Seemed to fit how he acted, too.  Nasty feller.  Oh, an' Ah think – in fact Ah'm pretty sure Ah remember feelin' hungry.  He made a comment to me, too…somethin' about my eyes, an'…oh Gawd!"

Snake.  He hadn't heard that awful name in years.  It had taken him so long to forget about it…he had been so young, and that filthy, slimy…  He had finally thought he was rid of that name, of those horrific memories, but now, for her to be remembering them…  It was like Snake had one more pain for him to endure…

"They're your memories, ain't they?" she interrupted his thoughts, and he realized how pitiful he must have looked, being reminded of his homeless life long ago.

"Yeah, dey are."

"Oh, sugah, Ah'm so sorry…Ah can see they're really painful for you."

"S'okay.  It was a long time ago…"

"That don't make them any less painful."

"No.  I just…I'm sorry you have ta deal wit' dem."

"So how often did you have ta…nevah mind, you don't have to answer that.  Ah see now why ya became such a good thief."

"Yeah."

"Mah powers kinda protected me from havin' ta do anthin' like that, Ah guess, although…"  She had a far-away look in her eyes.  He reached out to touch her cheek, to bring attention back to the present.  He had figured she'd had some kind of abuse in her early years, but had yet to get her to talk about it.  He had never pushed it, though, and he wasn't about to.  If she wanted to tell him about it she would.  For now, she just needed to know that he was there for her; that he would never hurt her.

She took a deep breath in.  "Ah…when Ah was on mah own…before Mystique found me.  Ah hitched a ride with this trucker.  He dropped me off in Jackson, but before he let me out he said 'Now hold on there, you pretty li'l t'ing.  Ah gotta be gittin' mah payment'…"  She nearly choked on the last part.  He could tell how painful it was for her talk about this.  To try and reassure her, he caressed her cheek some more.  He rarely used him empathic abilities, but now, he used them to send out as many sympathetic feelings to her as he could.  She drew in another deep breath before continuing.

"Ah tried to stop him, but he practically lunged at me, grabbin' me…Ah absorbed him.  He whet into a coma immediately, an' he stopped grabbin' but, now Ah had his memories.  All his dirty, filthy thoughts, all the nasty things he had fantasized about doin' with me.  Some people can be so ugly…Ah don't know what woulda been was worse, havin' him actually do all those things, or seein' them through his eyes.  It ain't quite the same thin' as what you went through."

"You were still violated, though.  It counts."

"Yeah, one of the few times someone actually violated me with mah powers 'stead o' the other way around.  It traumatized me.  Anyway, Ah saw from his memories that he had a shotgun under the seat, so Ah took it along with me.  Didn't get any trouble from anyone after that."

"I'll bet.  Chere, I…I'm so sorry dat had ta happen to you."

"Likewise, sugah."  She managed a weak smile.  "Y'know…it's weird…talkin' about this with you…they're such painful memories fo' us both, but Ah don't know.  Somehow, Ah feel a little better knowin' Ah ain't the only one."

"Know what you mean, chere," he replied as he stroked her shoulder.  "Maybe now dat we got dat out in de open, you won't have such horrible dreams."

"Maybe," she whispered hopefully.  He caressed her some more, still sending out as many comforting feelings to her as he could.  Her face turned to a look of languid sleepiness.

"'Night, sugah."

"Good night, chere.  Belle reves."*

Before she drifted off to sleep, she snuggled up closer to him, placing her head on his shoulder.  Even through the covers and clothes, he could still feel the warmth of her body.  He narrowed his kinesthetic sense down to include only her.  Feeling her heartbeat and the rise and fall of her body as she breathed in this way, he drifted off to sleep.  He woke up very well rested to the sight of her in the same spot she had fallen asleep, still breathing quietly.

These were the things that went through his mind on the way home.

*Est-ce que c'est bon = Is that good?

* mon cour = my heart

* Belle reves = sweet dreams


	4. The Chamber

The Tree

The Chamber

            She walked in the front door to find Logan and Bobby bumbling around the front room.

            "Where's the professah?" she asked.

            "Where's the Cajun?" Logan retorted.

            "You didn't answer my question."

            "Is Gumbo okay?"

            "Well, Ah – Ah don't know...Oh, Gawd, what have Ah done?"

            "Oh, God, you didn't absorb him again, did you?"  Bobby was trying to joke about it, but he knew that if she had, things could get very ugly very fast.

            She began to get angry and defensive.  "Why you gotta just _assume that, huh?"_

            "Well, by the way you're acting –"

            "When you left him, was he okay?"  Logan interrupted.

            "Yeah.  No.  Well...."

            "Well, what, darlin'?"

            "Physically, he was fine.  Otherwise, it's anybody's guess."

"Where is he?" Logan interrupted.

            "Ah don't know.  Comin' back home, Ah guess.  So where's the professah?"

            "In his study, with Scott and Jean," Logan finally answered.

            "Thanks," and with that she began running in the direction the professor's study.

            "Wait!  Aren't you going to tell me what happened?" Bobby called after her, but she just kept right on going, as if he had said nothing.  He started after her, but Logan stopped him.

            "I know you care about her, but stay outta this one, Bobby."

            She burst into the professor's chambers uninvited.  She was too upset now to worry about such formalities.  Scott was the only one fazed by her unexpected presence, although the professor did his best to act surprised when he stated her name – as if he didn't know it, she thought.

            "Out," she commanded of the couple with out even looking them in the eye.

            "Ah, excuse me, but we're kind of in the middle –" Scott started.

            "No, it's okay," Jean interrupted him, sensing her urgency.  "It's not _that_ important.  It can wait," and she pulled her rather reluctant husband out of the room.  Charles was the first to speak after the door had been shut.

            "What's wrong, child?"

            "What's wrong?!  What's **_wrong?!!!_**  The same thing that's _been_ wrong with me since Ah was thirteen!  The same thing that's been wrong with me since the manifestation of mah so-called powahs!  The same _ailment_ – not _gift_, but _ailment_, as in _sickness_, _disease_ – that brought me to ya in the first place!"

            "My dear, you're upset –"

            "You bet Ah am!  Ah thought you could help me, but you haven't done a damn thing, in all the years but use me to further your cause, just like Raven did with me!"

            He tried reaching out for her with his mind.  _**Now child –**_

            **_"NO!!!  Git outta mah head!!!"_** she screamed out loud, and repelled his mental attempt to reach out to her with all that she could.  She managed to do it quite effectively, and had she been paying attention to the expression on his face, she would have seen genuine surprise there.  But she was too busy to be noticing anything like that.   "Ah got enough people up there without you tryin' to git in there, too.  Y'all got something to say ta me, say it out loud, like _normal_ people do."

            _So, it's finally come to this,_ Charles thought to himself.  _All my hard work and dedication, and she still sees herself as a freak a nature.  Well, with her…gift…who can blame her?  And despite even that, she's been one of the most dedicated of my pupils.  Come on Charles.  You've had plenty of time to prepare for this.  You've been putting this off for too long now as it is.  So then why are you so nervous?_  The woman in front of him was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry, and right now, she was infuriated, but that wasn't it.  Was it because she wouldn't allow him to read her mind?  No, that wasn't it, either.  He'd had that handicap before, and he did owe her that courtesy.

            "You're right.  I'm sorry.  Please continue."

            "Ah wanna touch people, Ah wanna know what othah people's skin feels like.  Is that such a crime?  An' so Ah come here for help, and you say that you'll help me, but it's been _years_ and Ah'm still here, no closah to making skin-to-skin contact with othah people than Ah was the day Ah got here!  You were _supposed_ to help me, _proffessah_, but Ah can't help but wondah if ya've done _anythin'_ ta help me control mah so-called powahs!  Or have ya been so busy fucking everything else with a pussy – including yo' othah patients, Ah might add – that you ain't had time fo' me?  Well ain't this mutie a bitch?!  You gotta actually help her before you can fuck her!"  That last part was harsh, and she knew it.  She softened a bit for what came next.  But only a bit.  "Ah want ta be with him.  Ah wanna be with him so bad, and we're both so sick and tired of this damned chaste relationship!  Ah just cain't deal with it any longah!  Ah'm tellin' ya, professah, Ah'm getting' desperate here!  If Ah don't have some kind of new ray of hope soon, Ah'll just…Ah'll –"

            "You'll what?  Go back to the Brotherhood?" and he regretted the words as soon as they came out.  He had mocked her with that one.  They both knew she would never go back to that.  Still, he really hadn't meant to be so harsh.  In fact, he was trying his best to remain impartial, but her strong words she had said about him a moment ago had caused him to loose control over himself.  She didn't seem too angered by it, though, and he would have been grateful for this had the implications behind her response not seemed so ominous:

            "Ah didn't say Ah'd do that," she said in a low voice he could barely hear.  She glared at him angrily for a minute while she let that sink in before breaking the silence, still barely loud enough for him to hear.  "So, tell me now, and tell me straight.  Can you help me control this?"

            He fumbled around a minute before responding.  He considered lying to her.  He thought that it might keep her from hurting herself, or anyone else, for that matter.  The thought of losing one of his pupils – his children – terrified him.  But he couldn't do that to her.  She'd find out eventually, and was afraid of what she'd do when she found how he had deceived her on this.  Besides, he was convinced that if he lied to her, she would be able to read it all over his face.

            "Please, don't think that I haven't tried to figure out a way, but…my child…I'm so sorry, but…I…there's nothing I can do to help you with this.


	5. Sneaking Around

The Tree

Sneaking Around

She had snuck into the MedLab.  Having spent so much time with a thief, she had learned a few things about sneaking around, and right now, she didn't want anyone to know what she was up to.  She was grabbing a bottle of just about every drug Hank had down there, from morphine to quinine, Prozac to cough syrup.  Just a bottle of each.  She didn't want it to seem too obvious, and she imagined that the more variety, the more damage.  She just hoped it would be enough to overcome her body's natural resistance to such drugs.

As she put them all into a small paper bag with handles, she remembered what the professor had said to her.  He couldn't help.  All this time, all these years of hoping, and it had all been for nothing.  She had screamed, her knees buckling beneath her, and collapsed into a heap on the floor.  She was crying so violently that she barely heard what the professor had said about a collar, how hope was not all lost, please listen to him, but she had ignored all of it.  Without even having seen him wheel over, she could feel his hand reaching out to stroke her hair.  The contact was too much for her to take.

**_"NO!!!"_** she shrieked, and ran out of the room as fast as she possible could.  She had hid out in her room for a few minutes to gather herself together – to numb herself, temporarily – before heading down to the lab.  As she made her way back up to the main levels of the household, to the kitchen, to the cupboard, to the strongest, fullest bottle of alcohol she could find, she prayed that no one would stop her and discover the contents of her bag.  She wanted to get back to her room, safe and sound without having to confront anyone, as quickly as possible.  They usually didn't confront her when she was this upset, and she was counting on using that to her advantage.  Still, just to be safe, she took the less direct route.  The one she was least likely to bump into anyone on.  She was inpatient to get to her destination, but her better judgment told her that stealth and caution would be her greatest allies right now.  Speed would have to be sacrificed for the time being, and pray to every god she could think of that Logan wouldn't smell the contents of her bag, or her fear.  Or worse yet, that *_he_*didn't walk in the door, calling her name.  It was agonizing.  Each step seemed to last an eternity, but she made it, finally.

Back on the safety of her own familiar room, she sat on the edge of her bed, back to the door, and set her load down on the bedside table.  She let the tears flow freely, let all that had happened that night truly weigh down on her.  She managed to calm herself a little, and took out the bottle she had gotten out of the kitchen.  Contemplating the bottle, a million things flooded her mind.

what a way for a super hero ta go ah forgot a glass for the vodka shouldn't he be back by now stupid ah kin just drink outta the bottle is he okay not like anyone will touch it after ah'm through with it should ah at least wait to say bye to him should ah leave a note he'll probably be out all night anyway like always and this night started out lookin' like i'd be so nice too ah think they'll know why ah don't need to tell from beyond the grave ah should git this ovah with before someone a telepath or logan catches on or mah courage sells out now it'd be perfect timing too

And suddenly, there was a knock on her door.  She froze.

Another knock.

Maybe they don't know Ah'm here.

Another knock.

Then, muffled from behind the door, she heard a familiar voice say "Chere?"

_It's him!  Should Ah let him in?_  She hadn't even thought to lock the door when she had come back from the kitchen.  _Not that that would keep anyone in this household out for long._

She did want to see him, to talk to him before…but she didn't want him to see her.  She'd surely give away her intentions with one look into his eyes.

Alright, gal.  Pull yourself together.

Another knock.

_You can do this._  

"Chere?"

Their night out seemed like million years ago, but it had only been less than two hours since she left him alone at the restaurant.

She forced herself to stoop crying.

 "You in there?"

She recalled what all had past between the two of them earlier that night, setting aside what had happened since they had parted.

She put the paper bag with the stolen goods in the drawer of her bedside table.

 "The light's on."

With so many memories trapped in her mind, she had grown accustomed to such a setting aside certain recollections for a short time.

The vodka went in after it.

 "Please..."

It was almost second nature to her.

She dried her cheeks.

 "Cherie, please."

Tonight's more recent events were a little more difficult to set aside, though, and it took a little more effort, but she managed to accomplish it.

She took a deep breath in.

"I just wanna talk."

She laid down on the bed.

"It's open, sugah."

The confidence in her voice surprised her.


	6. Tickelish Spot

The Tree

Tickelish Spot

            She was lying on her bed, still in that stunning dress of he had given her, with her back to the door.  She wasn't facing him, so he couldn't tell if she was angry or not.  He decided to be on the safe side by assuming she was and take the necessary steps to mend things.

            "Chere, I'm sorry.  For what I said back there.  I didn't really mean it – I was jus' kinda caught up in da' moment and –"

            "Don't say that!"

"Huh?"  He had been caught off-guard by this one.  She turned to face him, and he could see in her eyes that he was hurting her more now than he had back at the restaurant.

"You're saying that what you said back at the restaurant – all those things – you didn't mean a word of it?"

"Well, no... I mean yes, I mean...I mean...I – I..." normally, he was a damn good liar, but for some reason, when she was looking at him like that, with those eyes, he just couldn't do it.  "Well, I thought you ran out because you were mad, so I –"

"Oh, no, Ah...Ah ain't mad.  Well, not at you, anyhow."  She realized how awkward he looked standing in her doorway.  "Come in.  Shut the door."  She sat up and made a space for him on the bed next to her.

"Actually, Ah should be the one apologizing to you.  Fo' runnin' out an' all.  Ah mean, the dinner an' everything, it was all so nice, an' Ah really do appreciate all the effort ya put into it, and it really was rude of me to run out.  The thing is, all those things you said, 'bout wannin' ta be with me.  I want all those things, too.  But Ah also don't wanna hurt you, and if Ah'd've stayed any longah – gotten any closah, Ah would have."

"Maybe dat won' be such a bad thing, Chere."

She just gave him a look.

"No...petit...it could work."

"Whatur you talkin' about?"

"No.  Never mind."

"What?"

"You ain't gonna like it.  I ain't too sure about it myself.  So never mind"

"Well, you kin at least tell me what it is, can't you?  I mean, what's the harm in that?"

"Well...what if we did kiss –"

"What?"

"Well, it is something too consider.  I mean, t'ink about it.  If you were to absorb me, permanently, then I would be inside you.  We could be together; we can be one."  He grazed her cheeks with his fingers.  "Sharin' the same body, the same existence –"

"STOP!  Do you even hear what you're saying!  You'll be trapped in me for the rest of your – mah life!  You'll be throwing your life away, not to mention drivin' me insane with all your memories, I mean you remember what happened the last few times –"

"I know I don't have the most reputable past, chere, but you already know everything."

"Knowin' them and experiencing them though your eyes are two very different things.  Besides, the last couple of times I absorbed anyone permanently, things didn't turn out so good, for any of us concerned, so forget about it!"

"I told you wouldn't like it."

"Awful, ain't it?  Because of me – because of what Ah am – because of my so-called 'powers' – it **is he only way we can be together."**

"Non, don' say dat.  We will find a way."  He reached his arms out to her and she let him draw her into his embrace, carefully resting her head on his shoulder.

"What are we gonna do?  Ah love you so much, Ah wanna know what it's like to feel your skin against mine so bad, but Ah don't dare, and every time we get close, it gets harder and harder for me to push you away.  It's agonizin' cuz it hurts us both, an' Ah don't really want to, but I have to.  And tonight, with the music, and the dancin', it took everything inside a' me to keep from touchin' you, and I didn't mean to push you away, or hurt you, but Ah know I did, and Ah'm sorry for that, but there was no other way!"  She was getting hysterical.

"Hush now, Chere.  I understand, and I ain't mad, either."

"Ah'm sorry, Ah'm so sorry!"

"No, don't be, mon belle amore.  You got nothin' ta be sorry about.  You were only doin' what's best for the both of us – I know dat an' you know dat.  Settle down now, breathe, petit.  Relax.  Shhhh."  He kissed the top of her head.  "Hush now.  Hush."

For some reason, his voice always sounded so soothing to her.  She managed to control her sobbing, and realized that she could hear it – the rhythmic throbbing of his life-blood.  The beating of his heart in her ear spoke to her.  Told her that he was here for her.  She was safe.  They both were.

"We'll find a way, I promise you," he assured her once again.

She slowly pulled away so she could look at him in the eye.

"Feel better?" he asked.

She just stared at him, looking very sad, as though she had lost something very dear to her.

"What?"

"It's just...Ah..."  She wanted to tell him everything that was on her mind – the horrible news that the professor had given her.  That there really was no hope for her.  For them.  She wanted to tell him, so that she might share the burden with someone.  So they could bare it together.  But he sounded so hopeful, and she didn't want to take that away from him.  Besides.  She didn't want him to know what she was planning to do.  She would certainly blurt it out, and he would surely talk her out of it.  It was best she didn't get on that subject.  That he didn't know about any of it.  For the time being.  So, she asked him something else, something that had been in the back of her mind for a long time now:

"Ah've been wondering.  Why do you love me?"

There.  If this was going to be her last conversation with the living, with her love, it may as well be about something nice.

"I could be askin' you the same t'ing, chere.

"Ah mean, Ah'm not exactly the most emotionally stable of people, an' you cain't even touch me, so, well, Ah'm curious..."

"Well...I suppose I should admit that my first attraction to you **was the fact that I couldn't touch you, I mean, you know how I love a challenge.  And, well, I t'ink you know how beautiful you are."**

"Ah'm not asking why you were first attracted to me."

"Well, where would you like me to start?"

"How should Ah know?  Where so ever you see fit, Ah suppose."

He thought a moment.

"Well, you're passionate, for one.  Anyone can see that.  You trust me.  That's a big one.  Anyone else – after findin' out some of the t'ings I've done wouldn't want anything to do with me, let alone trust me with their life.  With their love.  Even de' other people in this house, they don't trust me.  They do, to some extent, but they still have their doubts about me, and all they have are suspicions of a fraction of the stuff you know.  And I can trust you.  With everything.  No one knows me the way you do.  I can be open with you, honest to you.  And to myself, when I'm near you.  I don't know, I guess, in you, I found another soul who's just as troubled as I am, but in a different way.  Someone I could help and who could help me.  Someone beautiful to share my soul with, and just by the sheer fact that she cares for me back...that's she's willin' to listen to me, and share her life with me...well, it makes me feel like a better person for it, and she's got the most magnificent eyes, eyes you could just get lost in –"

She placed her hand on his cheek, looked him in the eye and almost began to smile.  He had started to get carried away, but this simple gesture left him speechless.  They stayed there for a moment, silent, gazing into each other's eyes.

He cleared his throat.  "I t'ink it's you turn, now."

She laid back on the bed, paused for a moment while looking at the ceiling before she looked back at him and began to speak.

"Well.  At first Ah was afraid that Ah was jus' anothah conquest for ya'.  But – well, first of all, Ah don't think you'd go this fah when you really have no hope of any...benefits while you could just as easily go out and get just about anybody you liked.  Besides, aftah absorbin' you as much as Ah have, I **know that you're heart is in it.  Ah guess that has ta do with it.  That someone would be willin' to stay with me for as long as you have – Ah mean, most men run from me the minute they find out about mah powahs, but you didn't even aftah gettin' ta know me, an' how insecure Ah am.  That means a lot to me.  An' Ah guess that fact that you – that we – can share things with each othah that we wouldn't share to another soul has something ta do with it, too.  But it's more than that.  Ah feel comfortable with you.  Safe.  Warm. You make me feel like a woman – a real woman – not some mutant who can't touch people.  Besides, you changed for me.  No one's ever done that for me, and Ah know how hard that can be.  An' you helped me face who Ah am, and come to terms with it.  Come to accept it – to some extent.  You still are.  You haven't given up on me, even when it seems like everyone else – includin' mahself – has. So Ah guess Ah – Ah love you simply for caring about me more than anyone else has in my whole life.  It means so much to me – you have no idea."**

He smiled at her, leaned in closer, and began to stoke her side lightly with his fingertips.  All of a sudden, a great look of surprise and – could it be…pleasure? – crossed her face, while her body convulsed and her hand instinctively moved to grab his.

"What?"

"Nothin'."  

"Oh really?"  He glided his fingertips over the spot again, and again, her body writhed and she squealed, without much conviction, something about forcing him into next month if he didn't stop.

"Why, chere, I do believe you have a ticklish spot!"  Of all the things they had talked about, he had never been able to get her ticklish spot out of her, let alone find out if she even was ticklish.  Now, he had discovered it for himself.  She had never let him get this close, and a sly look crossed his face as he decided that he was not about to stop here, despite all her threatening.

"No, please, no!" she exclaimed, and fear and joy overcame her all at once as she realized what the look on his face meant for her.  But his mind was made up, and she may as well have saved her breath.  He tickled her and tickled her.  She wriggled and writhed underneath him, as she implored him, half-heartedly, to stop, that this was dangerous, they shouldn't be doing this, inserting a curse here and there, laughing all the while.  He stopped – finally! – and she lay there, still laughing, trying to catch her breath, and looking up at him with those dazzling green eyes that he loved so.  It was as if her whole body was smiling at him.  It was spectacular.  Without thinking, he leaned in, drew her into his arms in one swift, smooth movement and kissed her.


	7. Explosions

The Tree

Explosions

            She carried his limp body into the rec room.  It was starting to get late, but at this hour, there would still be people down there watching news, or, if Bobby had managed to get a hold of the remote control, late night comedy shows.  Indeed, quite a few members of the house had congregated there – Ororo, Bobby, Logan, Scott, Jean, the professor – checking out the news, mostly for any kind of political developments that might have an affect on them, she guessed.  The telepaths turned toward her first, followed very shortly by Logan's eyes, all having sensed her anxiety before she entered the room.  The other people followed suite one by one.  She ignored most of them though, and walked into the room with out realizing that Ororo had turned the TV off, with out realizing that her eyes appeared to be burning with the fire that only a few minutes ago had been in the eyes of the loved one that now laid lifeless in her arms.  She just stared straight at the professor, angry, hurt, unrelenting, until she reached his wheel chair.  She carefully she laid his body on the professor's wheel chair, like some kind of human sacrifice, resumed her uncompromising stare and said to the old man,

            "He kissed me.  That's all."

            Charles just looked down at the body that had all but been placed in his lap.  He fumbled around the Creole, checking for a pulse, mentally calling for Hank.  These were all legitimate tasks, but the truth was, he couldn't bear to look the young woman in the eye.  He could feel her accusatory glance piercing his heart and burning through his flesh as she backed away.  He thought she would leave the room, maybe even the mansion, and they wouldn't see her for weeks.  As Hank came into the room, he looked up and saw that she had stayed, huddled in the door, waiting for Hank, just like the rest of them.  Moreover, her attention had seemed to be taken off trying to kill him with a look to concern for the man Hank was checking for vitals.  He also saw that Ororo, despite her devotion to her young Cajun friend, had made her way over the young Southern woman, trying to comfort her.  The younger woman didn't seem too responsive to the sympathy.  She didn't flat out reject it, either, so Ororo continued to silently comfort the indifferent one.

            Hank was laying the Cajun down on one of the beds, hooking him to an I.V., oxygen, and setting up everything else the young man would need for his stay in the MedLab.  The professor and Scott were helping him, with Ororo and her trembling companion lingering in the background.  The only sound was Hank giving out commands to Scott and Charles over the whir of the equipment and computers.  Until the younger woman spoke up.

            "Is there anythin' Ah can do to help?"

            Scott, annoyed about the whole situation at hand, and still peeved about having his meeting so rudely interrupted earlier, snapped back at her.

            "Haven't you done enough?!"

            She just stared him for a moment.  The room was silent, tense, and Hank wondered if he wouldn't have to be setting Scott up in one of these beds in a few minutes.  Much everyone's surprise, though, she just whispered:

            "You're right.  Ah'm sorry."

            As soon as the younger woman had disappeared from the room, Ororo turned angrily to Scott.

            "A bit harsh, don't you think, Scott?" and she turned to follow her friend to the upper levels.

            She made her way back to the hallway before Ororo could catch up to her, and paused a moment before returning to the Rec Room.  The news had come back on, but no one appeared terribly interested in it.  She headed straight to Logan.

            "Show me your claws," she commanded of him.

            "What?"  Everyone had turned to look at her, but she ignored them.

            "Show me your claws."

            "No."

            She grabbed his arm, as if she was trying to force them out herself, trying desperately to shatter the bones she knew would never break.  He stood up.  The others were on her, calling out her name, trying to talk some sense into her.  But she ignored their pleas and flung them off effortlessly.  She kept her grip on Logan, though and kept trying to get him to show him her claws.  Finally, Logan managed to get a good stance.  Though he could never quite to reach her height or strength, he did throw her off him while she was distracted enough, launching her toward a wall.  She left a shattered table in her path, and created a dent in the wall where she landed, but Logan had managed to hurl her so that no person was in her path.

She sat were she had landed, unhurt, but a little stunned.  The other people in the room began to collect themselves.  She shuttered on the floor and buried her face in her hands, muttering apologies through her tearless sobs.  Then, all of a sudden, the long, spearmint gloves that went past her elbows exploded in her face.  She let out a little scream.  Indeed, the blast startled everyone.  She just sat there, staring at her hands, realizing what had just happened, with that same, stunned look on her face.  Someone broke the silence with her name, but her only response was to jump up and run to her room.

A few of them would have run after him, but Logan stopped them.

"Leave her be."

Bobby spoke up.

"You seem to be saying that a lot tonight.  How can you be sure she's going to be okay if we leave her all alone?"

"She's not alone, bub," Logan replied matter-of-factly.

"What if…what if she tries to hurt herself?"

"I wouldn't worry too much about that, Ororo.  She won't try anything so long as Gumbo's with her like that.  Besides, any of us trying to help her now, with the state she's in, might end up doing more harm than good."

It sounded reasonable enough of an explanation to Ororo.  Logan didn't sound at all angry with her, and she did trust his instincts.  Still, she couldn't help but be worried about her friends – both of them.  She sighed, and went back down to the MedLab to be with the friend that wouldn't reject her presence.


	8. Coversations in the Dark

The Tree

Conversations in the Dark

            Back in the safety of her own room, after locking the door, she collapsed on the floor at the foot of her bed.  She hadn't bothered to turn on the light.  The eyes she had recently absorbed were hyper-sensitive, and they adjusted quickly to the darkness of the room.  Besides, it somehow seemed appropriate right now for her to be in the dark.  She tried to make her way over to the bedside table, to extract the contents she had left there earlier that evening, but she just didn't have the energy.

No, Ah can't do that now, even if Ah could get up.  There's no tellin' what might happen to him.  He maybe trapped inside a' me forevah, an' Ah don't wanna do that to him.   I'll just have to wait for him to regain consciousness.  If he evah does...

So, she curled up in the fetal position, and wept for a long time.  When she didn't even have the energy to do that, she rolled over onto her back, and stared at the ceiling.

She didn't think about anything.  Not what the people downstairs might be talking about, that they might try to come up to give her a pep talk, that they might find her stash.  Her mind was just blank.  It didn't even occur to her for a long time that her mind was never blank.  Not since she had been thirteen had her mind been so quiet, and especially not after making contact with another person's skin.  Once she remembered this, she grew terrified.

_Oh God, have Ah killed him?_

Terrified at the notion, she thought she would start crying again.  But she didn't.  She just laid there, shaking, but no tears would come.  It was as if she had exhausted everything inside her body that made her go, and now it was only her mind that was causing her to shutter so.  Shortly, she didn't even have the energy to do that.

_**You through?**_

It was his voice.

Suddenly, all her energy rushed back to her and she sat bolt upright.  Where had that come from?  Had it been anyone else's voice, friend or foe, she would have had no reaction at all.  She could sometimes hear the echoing of the voices of those she absorbed.  Hazy, faded memories of people who she had come into contact with, and had learned to ignore them easily enough.  But this was no echo; it wasn't hazy, or faded. It was as if it had come from inside the room.  She looked around.  The room was empty.  Had she imagined it; had she drifted off to sleep?  It sounded too real for either of these explanations.  What could it mean?  The implications raced past her, so fast she didn't stop to consider any of them, to think them through.

Terrified, she whispered his name into the darkness.

_**I'm here, chere.**_

She stifled a gasped.

"Where?"

            _**With you.  Here.  In your head.**_

            "Did you…the proposition that you made to me earlier?  Did you – when Ah flat out done tol' you no –"

            _**No, Chere.  I had no intention ta go through wit' dat when you said no.  Hell, I wasn't even too thrilled about it myself.  It was jus' something I been meanin' ta put out there for a long time, but didn't have the courage to 'til tonight.  An'…I'm sorry about doin' it.  I know how much it upsets you when you absorb someone, how much of an emotional toll it takes on you.  You were laughin', an' you just looked so happy, an' so beautiful that I…I jus'…couldn't help myself…**_  and as he said it, something in her told her it was true.  _**It'll wear off soon enough.**_

            "This is too weird."

            _**How about this then?**_ and his image materialized in front of her.  He was tall, lanky and handsome, as she always remembered him.  This time, she failed at suppressing a gasp.

            "How…?"

            _**I'm in your head, 'member?  The mind receives all de sensory receptors.  I'm workin' from the inside.  I kin even touch you, and you'd feel it,**_ and with that, he knelt down in front of her and kissed her on the forehead.  Her lip trembled at the realness of the contact, and the tears she couldn't force to come up earlier began pooling in her eyes.

            "But it's not real, is it?"

            _**Non.  An' you're the only one who kin see, hear, smell, taste…and feel it.**_

            "Ah may as well be dreamin'.  Will you remember this when you wake up?  Will Ah remember it?"

            _**Can't answer that, belle.  Wish I could, but I jus' don't know.**_

            She considered asking him if she would be harming him at all if she ended her suffering tonight, but decided not to.  He probably wouldn't know, anyway.  Without that, though she didn't know what to say to him.  It was still all very awkward for her.  He spoke up instead.

            _**Chere, why didn't you tell me about what the professor said to you?**_

            "How did you know about that?!  Can you see my memories, too?  Is this a two-way thing, now?"

            _**You didn't answer my question, Chere.**_

            "Ah…Ah…Ah asked you first!"

            **_No you didn't_.**

            "Oh, right.  What was the question?"

            _**Now you're just stallin'.**_

            "Oh…Well…Sugah…Would you mind terribly answering mine first?"

            _**De' professor told me.  Before I made it in to see you.  So why didn't _you_ tell me, belle?  We tell each other everything.**_

            "If you know what he said, then you know there's no hope."

            _**You're still not answering me.**_

            "No, Ah am answering you.  Ah didn't tell you because there is no hope, and ya looked so hopeful, and Ah know how horrible Ah felt when Ah lost that hope, an' Ah didn't want to take that away from you, an'…Hey.  Wait a sec!  If the professah had already told you, why didn't you tell me that he had?"

            _**I was waitin' for you ta tell me.**_

            "Ah guess it doesn't really matter much, now, does it?"

            _**That's were you're wrong, chere.  It does matter.**_

            "But the professor said –"

            _**Dat there was nothin' _he_ could do to help you.  But dat don' mean we can' do anyt'ing.**_

            "Oh, please don't do this!  This has been one of the worst nights of mah life; please don't make it any worse.  We both already know that there's no hope for us to be togethah.  There's just nothing we can do."

            _**Wrong again, chere.**_

            "Stop it!!!"

            _**No.  Chere, you told me not too long ago that one of the reasons you loved me was because I believed in you – I believed in us.  I still do, chere, and I'm not giving up.  I won't quit, and I won't let you quit.**_

            She buried her face in her hands and started to cry.  He didn't seem to react in any way.  He just stayed, kneeling there in front of her, as if waiting for the tears to run their course.

            _He looks so cool_, she thought.  _Ah'm dyin' inside, bein' ripped apart, an' Ah know it's showin', an' he – his image – looks so confident, so calm, so serene.  Maybe it's just that he doesn't have enough control over his image to show emotions.  Or maybe he does._

            She controlled her sobbing enough to speak to him.

            "Let me git this straight.  Even though the professah says nothin' can be done – 'scuse me – _he_ can't do anything to help, you're sayin' that the two of us Southern orphans, with no PhD's in psychology, and no background in genetics whatsoevah, can work though a problem like the one we have?"

            _**Yeah, chere.  Dat's pretty much what I've been tryin' ta say all night, although from the tone of your voice, I kin tell that I still haven't convinced you.**_

            "No.  You haven't.  And you won't.  But I'll humor you enough to hear how you plan to git ovah this hurdle."

_**I kin accept that.  For now.**_

"So, what exactly is it that you propose to do?"

_**Well, I'll tell you one thing.  It's not suicide.**_

She grew terrified.

"But…how…?"

_**I'm in your head.  Remember?  I _can_ see your memories.  Chere, did you really think dat takin' your own life is a solution?**_

She turned her face away from him.

"No.  Not a solution so much as a way out.  An end."

Suddenly, she was overcome by a deep fear and an even deeper sorrow that she knew hadn't come from her.

_**Oh, chere, has everything we've been though over the years meant nothing to you?**_

Looked up at him, still crying.  She was about to snap back at the comment, but the pain and sorrow written all over the face in front of her – that she could feel welling up inside her – caused her to take a different approach.

"No, no, don't…please don't think that of me.  You…us…what we have togethah…what we had…it's been the one good thing in mah whole life.  Ah don't regret a moment of it."

_**But it wasn't enough.**_  It was more a statement than anything else.

Now she started to get defensive.

"You don't understand!  Ah'm so tired of this existence!  An' it's not just you.  Ah mean, you're a huge part of it, but Ah'm so tired of havin' ta always be on my guard, every minute of every hour of every day.  Ah'm tired of havin' to wear long pants and long sleeves, even in the heat and humidity of a New York summer.  Ah'm tired of lettin' the same section of mah back burn when I go sun bathin' 'cuz Ah can't reach it to put sunscreen on, an' certainly nobody else can.  Ah'm tired of havin' ta be oh-so careful of some idiot bumpin' inta me in a large crowd.  Ah wanna feel the fresh air against mah skin; Ah wanna feel someone else's skin against mine without havin' ta worry about hurtin' anyone."

_**But, chere –**_

**"Ah'm not finished!"**

_**Sorry.**_

"Ah can't feel.  Ah got into a little tangle with Logan tonight.  He threw me across the room.  Ah went through a table and part of a wall.  Ah couldn't feel it.  Ah mean, yeah, I felt them crackin' undah me, but it didn't hurt.  Ah may as well have been flung onto a waterbed.  An Ah don't even have a scratch or bruise on me, not even a fucking splinter.  Hell, it my as well not have happened!  Ah can't feel pain, an' without pain, you can't have pleasure.  Oh, doncha  see?  That one time…when we were togethah…that one time…in the cave…Ah could feel…Ah could feel everything…it hurt at first, but even the pain felt good, 'cuz at least Ah was feelin' somethin'…and then…then…well then…then it felt good…an' after a while, all Ah could feel was the pleasure…and you and…and…and Ah was so happy…so happy…Ah can't remember a time Ah was happier…an' then it was ovah an' Ah've wanted more evah since an' now Ah can't feel anythin'…not the pain, or the pleasure…or you…and now Ah'm longin' for it more than evah before…"

There was a long pause.  She knew he was searching for something to say to her, but nothing was coming.  He just kept looking at her with eyes that seemed to look straight through into her soul.  She has seen those eyes on her before, but never before had they seemed to penetrate her so deeply as now – was that because she had absorbed him, and he was truly searching her soul for something?  The thought made her uncomfortable until finally she could stand those eyes and the silence no longer.

"Ah can't feel.  Someone who can't feel is a sorry excuse for life, and without feeling, Ah jus' don't see a point in continuing this wretched existence."

_**What about me, chere?  Or those people down stairs, the people who care about you, who love you?**_

"You'll get ovah it.  Y'all are survivors, you especially.  You'll move on, and think of me less and less, if at all, until Ah become just anothah memory, anothah tragedy you had to live through."

_**That's really the kind of legacy you want leave behind?**_

"At this point, Ah don't really care."

_**Ah don't believe dat.**_

"Tough."

_**You do have it in you.**_

"What?"

_**The power to control your ability.  You have it in you.**_

"Ah'm not gonna humor this anymore."

_**It's there.  I know.  I've seen it.**_

She just sat there, trying to pull off as a defiant stare.  She wished she could let his words bounce off her as if they had never been said, but she couldn't completely shake them off.  This was, after all, her Love.  What he said always penetrated her deep, and now it was seeping in much further than she would have liked.   He was wearing her down, reviving the hope and faith she thought had died within her that night.

_**I can help you find it.**_

"You're getting' yo' hopes up for nothin'"

_**You just have to trust me.**_

"Please…"

_**And more importantly, you have to let me.**_

A pause.

_**Look if you've truly given up, then you really don't have anything to lose, right?**_

_Great, he's trying reverse psychology,_ now, she thought.

_**In fact, if it doesn't work, then you'll have gained something.  You'll have proven me wrong.  So come on, prove me wrong, I dare you.**_

"Well, there's a cheap shot, if Ah evah heard one."

_**I know, but at dis point, I'll try anything.  Is it working?**_

"Yo' not gonna give up on this are you?"

_**I already told you no.  And I don't think you have, either, chere.**_

"Now what makes you say that?"

_**Because if you had, you wouldn't be so scared.  Now c'mon.  If not for yourself, for me.  Please?**_

She considered objecting, letting him go on trying to sway her.  But the truth was, she didn't want to fight him on this any longer.  She had neither the strength, nor the desire to.  But there was more to it than that.  This was her Love, and he had once again penetrated deep under her skin.

She gave a sigh of surrender.

"Alright.  But…be gentle."

_**I suppose I should tell you…I have to be honest with you, it might hurt.  I mean there's truth to your pleasure/pain theory, but the fact is, I just don't know.  Haven't exactly done this before.  But I promise, I'll be as gentle as I can.**_

"What do Ah hafta do?"

_**You've gotta look inside yourself.  Face all de' t'ings dat are blocking the way.  An' you gotta find your strength.  It is there, chere.  I promise you that.  I see flashes of it all de time.  I'll help you at first.  Guide you.  But I can only go so far.  You'll have to do a lot of the hardest part by yourself.  You can do it, chere.  I know you can.  Just remember, I love you and I am here with you.  I always will be.**_

"An' what about all those othah people up there.  They don't like me too much for what Ah done to them.  They won't be happy to see me."

**_Dat's not true about all o' dem.  You have absorbed people who care about you, an' who ain't angry wit' you about it, 'culding me, chere.  'Sides.  You got me wit' you, an' wit' me comes all my abilities.  While you were gettin' all mellow dramatic down in the rec room, I been scooping t'ngs out, like any good t'ief would do.  All those people are pretty deep, but yo' problem lies below dem.  I got some real good mental shields I kin cloak you wit', til we get past dem.  De won' even know you dere.  Any other questions before we begin?_**

"No, Ah…Ah don't think so."

**_Ready, den?_**

She nodded.

_**Okay.  Now relax.**_

Just before his image vanished from sight, disappearing as quickly and as suddenly as it had come, she thought she saw a smile flash across his face.


	9. Demons and Trees

The Tree

Demons and Trees

"Beloved, gaze in thine own heart

The holy tree is growing there;

From joy the holy branches start

And all the trembling flowers they bear.

The changing colours of its fruit

Have dowered the stars with merry light;

The surety of its hidden root

Has planted quiet in the night;

The shaking of its leafy head

Has given the waves their melody.

And made my lips and music wed,

Murmuring a wizard song for thee,

There the Loves a circle go, 

The flaming circle of our days,

Gyring, spiring to and fro

In those great ignorant leafy ways;

Remembering all that shaken hair

And how the winged sandals dart

Thine eyes grow full of tender care; 

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.

Gaze no more in the bitter glass

The demons, with their subtle guile,

Lift up before us when they pass,

Or only gaze a little while;

For there a fatal image grows

That the stormy night receives,

Roots half hidden under snows,

Broken boughs and blackened leaves.

For all things turn to bareness

In the dim glass the demons hold,

The glass of outer weariness,

Made when God slept in times of old.

There, through the broken branches, go

The ravens of unresting thought;

Flying, crying, to and fro,

Cruel claw and hungry throat,

Or else they stand and sniff the wind,

And shake their ragged wings: alas! 

Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:

Gaze no more in the bitter glass."

_--from "The Two Trees" words by __William Butler Yeats_

She looked around the empty room.  There were no signs that he had ever been there.  She thought for a moment that it had all been a dream, or, even worse, a cruel trick of her own mind.  Or maybe she had died, and this was a game death was playing with her.

She shook off all these thoughts.  She had something to take care of.  She had to focus.

But she still felt as though her mind might wander.  She had to imagine she was in the danger room, or fighting one of her enemies.

_Good.  That's good.  Start with somethin' you've done before, somethin' you know you can handle, something that's nearly second-nature_, she told herself.

_You've gotta look inside yourself,_ she remembered him saying.  She laid down on her back again and stared at the ceiling.  It was such an uninteresting thing to look at, and with nothing to distract her eyes, she just figured it would make it easier for her to look inside.

_It is inside of me.  Whatever it is that's holdin' me back.  Ah know that now.  Got to fight with whatever it is that's holdin' me back.  No.  Not fight it.  Reason with it.  Or try to, anyway._

She thought she could feel him confirming her thoughts, pleased that she was taking the first steps.

_So, he can see mah thoughts, too, then?  Ah well, it maybe it's a good – no, gal!  Focus.  All right, sugah.  Now what?_

_**You notice anyt'ing unusual, chere?**_

_No.  Wait.  Yes...Ah haven't run across any of your memories.  Ah usually do, and if Ah absorbed enough of ya to be *seein'* an' *feelin'* ya, Ah must've gotten a few._

She almost scolded herself again for not concentrating, but she seemed to get the feeling that this was the correct course of action.

She hesitated a moment before starting to search.  They would be right on top, she knew that, fresh in mind as they were, and not difficult to find at all, and that wasn't what was stopping her.  She had had very bad experiences with his memories in the past, and she wasn't sure she wanted to go through that again.  The more she resisted though, the more he seemed to pull, and the more she seemed to hear something inside here – and she was no longer sure if it came from herself, or from him, or both of them – to trust him.

_Well, he did warn me that it might hurt.  Besides, even if it does, you can't have pleasure with the pain, right?_

She was expecting the worst.  She still remembered glimpses of memories she had obtained in the past.  Indeed, she had all but gone crazy the last couple of times she had absorbed his memories, and was convinced that the bulk of the nightmares that sometimes plagued her were his memories surfacing from her subconscious.  She didn't see why this time around would be any different.

She hit the feelings first.  They shrouded the memories themselves, and were always the easiest to find, no matter whom she was dealing with.  Much to her surprise, though, she didn't get lost in a sea of guilt, anguish and self-loathing as she had in the past.

She dug deeper, to the specifics.  She paused to remind herself that whatever she saw, that even if the memories were hers now, they didn't really _belong_ to her.  This wasn't her life she was looking at, so don't get lost in it.

And with that, she let the memories pass over her consciousness.

There were no Mauraders.

There were no terrifying villains.

There were no run-down theatres.

There were no assassins.

There were no other women.

The memories she had absorbed.

Or had he given them to her?

They were all of her.

Every last one of them.

Silk dresses.

Late-night visits.

Thimbles.

Shattered glasses.

A broken necklace.

Motorcycle rides.

Chocolate candies.

Intimate conversations.

Secret places.

Last cigarettes.

A dark cave.

Dazzling, sea green eyes.

There was a bit of sadness surrounding it all, especially at those moments where they were the closest.

Those moments where he yearned to touch her the most.

And in his desperate yearning, she realized her _had_ touched her

He _had_ made love to her, so many times, she realized, with a mere glance.

That look of love that she had come to recognize, that had become so familiar to her.

He had touched her.

Not physically.

Deeper.

He had truly touched her soul.

And she had touched his.

He loved her, he really loved her, and even the sins of his past didn't seem quite so bad because of it.

They faded in comparison to what he felt for her.

They paled in comparison to what they had.

The things he had done in his past still weren't right.

They never would be, no matter how hard he might wish it otherwise.

But he could live with himself.

Because he had found someone to be with.

Someone to love him, despite what she knew of his past, and those events could finally become just that.

The past.

And the pain and guilt and anguish and self-hatred that had haunted him for so long no longer overwhelmed him.

            The change in him was amazing.  Never before had she imagined the depth with which someone could change.  And it was all because of her.  Never before had she imagined how anyone could have such an affect on another person.  How _she_ could have such a profound affect on his soul.  She had never thought so highly of herself to be able to say she could change a man's soul.  She knew he had changed, but she never imagined the change had gone so deep – never imagined that she could save anyone from themselves as she had saved him.  But she had, without even realizing it.

            That was it.  That was the hidden strength he had spoken of.  If she could change him so profoundly, she could certainly help herself.  She owed it to him – to herself – to do whatever it took to do it.  Now, to find it herself.

_As Hank might say: "Aye, there's the rub!"  All right, sugah.  Ah know what Ah'm lookin' for.  Now take me past all those people._

            She felt him surround her, like a great, big, warm blanket, and they floated past the seemingly endless bunch of people and mutants.  She could see them, but they acted as though she wasn't even there, just as he'd told her they would.  Their voices, which usually seemed to pound on her ears whenever she ventured this far into her mind, were muffled by the blanket he had provided her with, she imagined.  Soon, they were past all the ghosts in her head, their voices their memories, their images fading out behind them.

            They reached a desolate landscape.  The whole setting was murky, discolored with an unreal, nightmarish feel about it.  Nothing seemed solid and she felt as if she was wading through a marshland.  The sky was covered in clouds so thick and dark, she couldn't tell if it was day or night.  Everything seemed so barren, so lifeless, so glum, so melancholy.  A fog seeped everywhere around her, creating an eerie chill and keeping her form seeing too far ahead of her.  She was deep in her psyche now, and it bothered her how bleak and uninviting it was.  She had seen the inside of a lot of lonely, twisted, confused minds before, but it never really occurred to her that her own mind could be so muddled.  She knew she had some things she needed to work out; she acknowledged that she wasn't the most mentally stable person in the world.  But she had always attributed it to all the people she shared her mind with.  It never occurred to her how deep the problem really went.  That their confusion could become her confusion and seep so far down.

_It's your own fault, gal.  Been ignorin' the problems too long, now._

She reached out for her companion, and while she could feel him there with her, a pillar of strength in a world where nothing seemed solid, she knew he could do nothing else for her anymore.  It was all up to her now.  But that was okay.  He was there for her, and that's all she needed him for.

Before long, she could sense a presence of some…things, coming closer to her, and before long, they became visible through the mist.  They were monsters.  Horrid-looking things, with talons and sickly yellow eyes and fangs dripping with acidic saliva that seemed to have a chemical reaction with the ground when it hit.  Some of them were on all four's, some on their hind legs, while still others had three, or even eight legs.  Some had beaks, some had pig-like noses with tusks protruding out from their lips.  Some had feathers, some had coarse-looking hair that she imagined were razor sharp at the end, while still others had scales or a shell-like casing, plate-like structures.  One had what looked like porcupine needles along its shoulder blades and upper back and still another appeared to be a still-deteriorating mass of bones covered in rags.  Their bodies were deformed, broken, twisted.  One stood out form the others as a completely, ordinary-looking  human – for even she knew that monsters come in all forms.

She had names for every last one of them.  Anger.  Doubt.  Frustration.  Destruction.  Self-loathing.  Confusion.  Hatred.  Envy.  Panic.  A pair of Siamese twins, Pain and Anguish.  Despair.  Agony.  Lust.  Misery.  Hopelessness.  Desolation.  Loneliness.  Desperation.  Pride.  Distress.  Sorrow.  Vanity.  Regret.  Guilt.  Shame.  There were dozens more, each one more appalling than the other.  And of course the biggest and most hideous of them all.  Fear.  Materializing out of the fog, they seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.  And they terrified her.

They took a moment to contemplate her, ominously sizing her up with their unnatural eyes before suddenly swooping down on her, grabbing at her.

A strange kind of battle ensued, and she fought off the creatures as best she could.  She twisted and struggled to evade their violent grasps, putting a blow of her own in here and there, and yet, somehow, the more she thought she hurt them, the more power they seemed to have over her.  It was as if they were feeding off her both her actions and her emotions.

She began to panic. If they were to destroy her here…

_No.  Don't panic._

The more she frightened she became, the more terrifying they seemed to become.

_C'mon, gal, you've faced some pretty scary lookin' thing befo'._

The greater hold they seemed to have on her.

_This should be a piece o' cake._

The more they seemed to cling to her.

_Just remember your trainin'._

No.  She was the one clinging to them.

_Let go, gal.  Just let go._

She couldn't talk to them.  Reason with them.  This was a world that knew no words.  Only feelings ruled here.

No.  Not if she didn't let them.  She took a moment to collect herself, to muster a detached defiance to face them down.  It was a strange experience.  Whereas most enemies she was used to fighting would take advantage of the moment she seemed to take her mind away from the battle at hand, these demons faltered and began to lose their grip; their power.  It was quite an encouraging sight, and was just what she needed to bolster her confidence.  They couldn't hurt her if she didn't let them, and as she stared them down, they no longer appeared so imposing, so big, and so terrible.  They seemed to morph right before her eyes, their coarse features softening, their misshapen bodies correcting themselves.  After a while, and with no small amount of effort from her behalf, the demons no longer looked nearly so hideous, and she kept at it until every last one of them – including Fear – became down-right docile.  Indeed, she could almost laugh at herself for having been so frightened of these beings not too long before, some of which had become rather cute little creatures.

With that, she let them be.  She knew she could never completely rid herself of them, but she had broken their hold on her.  They were no longer a threat to her.

She looked around to realize that the haze had thinned and she could see most of the land that lay out before her.  It was still pretty gloomy, but it was more solid now, more real, not the surreal, washed-out terrain it had been when she first arrived.  Her eyes became aware of something off in the distance, and Instinct directed her toward it, telling her that this was what she was looking for.  This was her Strength.

It was a very small, very dead looking tree.

This _is my Strength?_ she thought.

Or at least that's what she would have thought not too long ago.  Indeed, not too long ago, she would have been very discouraged, and even a little annoyed at the sight of this "Strength," but things were different now, and so she took a closer look.

On one of the top branches, on the opposite side of tree, she spied a juicy looking fruit.

There was life in it yet.  But how to tap into that.  To make it grow.  Well, this was her mind, after all, and if she could face down those monsters, she could do anything.

_Aight.  Those monsters were the bad.  This is the good.  So what's good about me?_

She began to recall the conversation she had had earlier.  _You're passionate…you trust me…I can trust you…no one knows me the way you do…I can be open with you, honest to you…to myself when I'm near you…someone…who could help me…someone beautiful to share my soul with…she cares for me...she's willin' to listen to me…share her life with me...it makes me feel like a better person for it…_

She began to recall the things she had absorbed earlier that night.  Silk dresses…late-night visits…thimbles…shattered glasses…a broken necklace…motorcycle rides…chocolate candies…intimate conversations…secret places…last cigarettes…a dark cave…dazzling, sea green eyes…he _had_ touched her…he _had_ made love to her…with a mere glance…he had touched her…not physically…deeper…he had truly touched her soul…she had touched his…the sins of his past didn't seem quite so bad…they faded…they paled…what they had…he could live with himself…the pain and guilt and anguish and self-hatred that had haunted him for so long no longer overwhelmed him…because he had found someone to be with…someone to love him.

She could love.  She could trust.  She could touch another's soul.  She could be loved.   She could be trusted.  She could let someone else touch her soul.  She could be intimate without even touching.  She could make someone else want to be a better person.  She could make someone else's existence better simply because she cared.

As she recalled these things, realized these things, the life began to spread throughout the tree and the once dried-up, shriveled little shrub had become a great tree right before her inner eye.  Leaves appeared on the branches, blossoms materialized and were replaced by fruit.  The trunk and branches grew, and the leafy cover spread upward and outward, seemingly pushing away what was left of the cloud cover in the process, revealing a beautiful, starry sky above, blocked now only partially by green leaves.  She let the branches and roots reach far out into the spaces of her mind, and the whole terrain seemed to come alive with it.  The tree itself seemed to resonate with its own subtle light and soft sound and the chill that once shrouded the environment gave way to a calming, inner warmth.  She let it penetrate so deep that she her body could physically feel the changes take place.  Starting somewhere around the vicinity of her abdomen, she could feel a light burning sensation that gave way to a tingling feeling before spreading out through her body until it seemed to pour out of her fingers, toes and the top of her head.  It was incredible.

Rising on the horizon of her mind, she could see what she could only describe as a sun, but that seemed more brilliant and less harsh at the same time.  It filled the sky with the most beautiful, most brilliant colours she had ever seen.  The brilliance gave way to a starry blanket on the opposite horizon.  The scene stayed like that, a perpetual sunrise in her mind, a balance between opposites – between light and dark, pleasure and pain – with one gradually fading into the other.

When she felt she was finished she looked around.  She had created a beautiful image in her mind, a wonderful place for the demons to hang out and the tree to flourish.  And she had done it all on her own.  She was more than just satisfied with herself.  She was happy.

Her work was done, and she could leave without having to deal with all the muck that had taken her so long to get through when she came.  And when she reached the upper levels of her mind, her Love was the only one still there, waiting for her to return.  She didn't wonder where everyone else had gone.  When she had let go of her demons, the sludge she had muddled through earlier, the sludge that had tethered them down, had disappeared, freeing them all from her psyche, letting them go with everything else.  She no longer had to awkwardly share her mind with anyone else unless she wanted to.  She no longer had to worry about someone ripping her mind to pieces from within.  She no longer had to worry about someone taking over her body, using it against her, against those she cared about.  She was in control of her mind, of her emotions, her power.  Her mind was finally blissfully quiet.  Peaceful.  It was a wonderful feeling.


	10. The Mirror

The Tree

The Mirror

            Rogue opened her eyes to find herself still lying on her bedroom floor.  The room was still dark, and her body was cold, but she hardly noticed.  Right now, she felt as though she could fly even without her powers.  For the first time she could remember, she truly felt free.  She wanted to turn cartwheels down the halls screaming "Hallelujah!" over and over and kissing anyone who might find them self in her path.  She was _that_ happy.

            _What a turn around from earlier this evening,_ she thought to herself.

            But she had some things to take care of first.  She looked at the clock.  11:42.  She had felt as though she had spent hours in the recesses of her mind, and was amazed when she realized that it had been a mere forty minutes since she had made it to her room from the MedLab.  As she made it over to the bed stand to pull out the paper bag full of stolen goods and set it on the bed, she marveled at how fast the mind works.  She passed the mirror on her dresser as she turned from the bed.  Normally, she didn't give too much thought to how she looked, but tonight, Remy stopped her.

            The moon full had risen and was spilling light in through her window to play upon her hair and caress her pale skin.  The sight really was glorious, and she could hear Remy's thoughts at the sight of her in the mirror, some of which were less innocent than others.  For the most part, though, he expressed to her how beautiful he thought she was, inside and out.  He was truly awe-stricken by what he saw in her.

            She had never really thought of herself as being beautiful.  Couldn't let herself believe that she was beautiful.  If she was, she would only attract men and end up hurting them with her absorbing powers.  Or at least that's what she had told herself to the point where she had completely embraced the notion.  Besides, she had always believed that true beauty lies within, and she knew she was a mess there.  Truthfully, her failure to reorganize her own beauty had stemmed from her horrible lack of self-esteem.  She understood that now.  She was looking at herself from his eyes, and new eyes of her own, and she began to see what he had been trying to tell her since the day they met.  She was beautiful.  She could acknowledge that now, but in a self-confident way, not an arrogant way.

            Looking herself over in the mirror, she also realized she was still in that green evening dress.  She set the bag down, and proceeded to carefully remove the dress without wrinkling it any more than she already had.  Her shoes and panty hoes followed.  Rogue then pulled on the first pair of boxers she saw and a black baby-t the read "StrangeLittleGirl" in red letters across the front.  Remy had bought it for her a concert they had been to recently (or rather, that she had dragged him to, but that he had ended up enjoying anyways) and she thought it was _strange_ly appropriate.[1]  Making a point of going barefooted and barehanded, she continued out the still dark room into the hall with the brown bag.

            _Third time I've been down here tonight_, Rogue thought to herself as she entered the MedLab.  The other X-Men had made their way down there.  Ororo was seated at Remy's side, holding his limp hand while Hank was still bumbling about with something or other (or rather, ten some things).  The others were carrying on a conversation she never knew the subject of because her presence interrupted it.  She didn't seem to notice that she had become the center of attention, though – her gazed was fixed on the prone figure lying in the hospital bed.  Bobby broke the silence first.

            "Hey Rogue.  How you doin'?" he asked cautiously.

            "Wonderful!" she replied.  The huge grin on her face that followed the statement utterly confounded Iceman, and the baffled look on his face was priceless.  But before he could think of something to say, Logan spoke up.

            "What's in the bag darlin'?"

            "Oh!" she said, as though she had just remembered something, and made her way over to where Hank was.

            "Yes?" the blue mutant asked her.  Just then, she became acutely aware of what she was doing and extremely self-conscience of all the eyes staring at her. She had been so bold walking in, but now that it was coming down to it, she felt so shameful of her actions.  By handing the bag over to its rightful owner, she would have to face what she had nearly done and she wasn't sure if she was ready to do that.  It suddenly seemed as though there were a bowling ball in her stomach and a desert in her mouth.  The old sensations of her courage selling out on her began to overwhelm her.

            She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath in.

            _No, gal,_ she told herself.  _That was the old you that couldn't face it – that wouldn't risk embarrassment in exchange for truth.  You've moved beyond that, now_.

            "Rogue?  Are you feeling quite all right?" Beast interrupted her thoughts.

            "Yeah, Ah'm fine, sugah.  Just needed a second to gather my wits."  He gave her a puzzling look.  "Ah believe these belong to you.  Ah'm sorry Ah took 'em without askin'.  It was wrong a' me to do so."

            He took a peek inside the bag.

            "Oh my stars and gar –" he looked up to the truly apologetic expression on her face, and he realized that she had meant her last statement on more just one level.  She was ready for anything from him, his wrath, his judgment, anything. 

            "That's quite alright, Rogue.  Thank you for retuning it.  Are you sure you're all right though?"

            His tone was genuinely worried.  _Shoulda know better, gal.  After all, this is Hank _McCoy.  Can't deny being more than a little relived, though.

            "Yeah, sugah, Ah am, an gettin' better by the minute," she answered.  Rogue then turned to the rest of the group.  "Ah owe you all an apology, though.  Fo' the way Ah acted earlier tonight.  Wasn't lady-lahk at all.  See, Ah was real upset, but Ah know that ain't no excuse, cuz ah shouldn't a' taken it out on y'all.  So, Ah'm sorry."

            At various levels of dumbfounded-ess, the rest of the group muttered some sort of acceptance.  They knew Rogue to be unpredictable, so her outburst earlier had hardly phased them, especially considering Remy's current state.  But for her to apologize to them for it was _completely_ unexpected.  It was Hank who finally broke the silence.

            "Um, Rogue, this isn't mine."  The group's attention turned to the resident doctor, who was currently holding up a nearly full bottle of Vodka.

            "Hey!  You're right, Hank that's mine!"  Warren moved to snatch the bottle from his friend's paws and unscrewed the cap.  "I've been looking for this."

            "Yeah, like ah said, sorry 'bout takin' it without askin'," Rogue offered.

            Warren narrowed his eyes at her.  "That's okay, I guess."

            "What else is in that bag?" Bobby asked as he moved to take a peek into the brown paper.  Much to Rogue's relief, though, Hank pulled the bag out of Bobby's reach.

            "So whacha up to darlin'?  You doin'a twelve step program and this is the part where you apologize to everyone?" Logan said to change the subject.

            Rogue smiled.  "Somethin' lahk that, yeah.  Now, if y'all will excuse me, Ah'd lahk sometime alone with Remy, here."

            Being able to sense her good intentions, Logan and the telepaths were the first to head for the door.  Beast was the next one to humor her, heading into the other room to replace the bottles of medicine back to their respective storage spaces.  The rest left rather hesitantly, with Storm being the last one out the door.  She looked as though she wanted to say something, but was at a loss for words.  So instead, she just placed a hand on Rogue's shoulder and gave her a weak smile.

            Rogue made her way to the only occupied bed in the room.  She sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his handsome face.  He had stopped "talking" to her, but she could still feel his presence inside her.  He had been observing the events from her eyes the whole time, all the while giving her all the support and love that he had in him.  It really was a wonderful, feeling all the emotions he felt for her.  She looked at his face with red-on-black eyes that matched his closed ones.  He seemed so peaceful, and for a moment, she entertained the idea of keeping his psyche just where it was.

            But it was only for a moment.  She knew in her heart what she had to do.  She shifted her position a bit, leaned in til their lips were less than half-an-inch apart, and gently closed her eyes.

  


* * *

[1] Rogue says:  "Y'all git ten points if'n ya know what concert the shirt if from!"


	11. The Kiss

The Tree

The Kiss

            Beast was in the next room, working on his latest pet project, when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Rogue was poised over Remy, about to kiss him.  He was about to shout some kind of protest to his Mississippi teammate, but stopped himself, opting to see where it would lead.

            Rogue went gently when her lips first met his, focusing on letting go of his psyche.  She felt none of the vampiric pull on his being that she had experienced in the past and reveled in the lack of that feeling as much as she reveled in the feel of Remy's soft lips and warm breath on her face.  After a moment, she felt Remy's lips move below hers.  His arms moved to her sides then proceeded to wrap around her body.  He deepened the kiss as he drew her closer, so close to him that she was practically laying on top of him.  The passion flowed through them like water through a broken dam.  It was her first real kiss where nothing bad was going on, and she didn't want it to end.  She had the sneaking suspicion he didn't, either, but she needed to catch her breath.  It took nearly all she had to pull away from him, and even then, she couldn't seem to pull herself very far.

            Hank was not at all surprised when he saw Remy come out of his coma when Rogue kissed him.  He couldn't deny that he wasn't a bit relived when he saw him react to her touch, though.  He wondered if they noticed that Remys' monitors had sparked to life at the contact.  The increased peeps from the machines were peculiarly romantic, but judging by the way the couple was reacting, or rather weren't reacting, he decided that they probably hadn't given them a second thought, or didn't care.  Scolding himself when he realized he was now spying on the couple, Hank shut the door to allow them their privacy.  He checked Remys' read-outs from where he was, and everything looked fine.  His heart was beating rather rapidly, but nothing Hank was terribly worried about considering Remy's current activities.  He'd find some excuse to come back out there and take a closer look at Remy's vitals in a few minutes, but for now, he'd leave them alone.

            Remy opened his eyes to meet with a pair of eyes as deep and green as the ocean after a storm that mirrored the joy behind his own.  Her face took up his entire field of vision.  If he hadn't known any better, he would have guessed that he had died and gone to heaven.  The face that now seemed to be the only thing in the world other than himself could only belong to an angel.  It was more beautiful than anything he could have ever imagined.  Her red lips parted and spoke:

            "Wake up, Sleepin' Beauty."

            "Isn't dis supposed to be de odder way around, mon belle?"  Red lips pulled back into a smile and laughed.  "I mean, after all, ain't I your Prince Charmin'?"

            "Maybe in the fairy tales, sugah." (Ooo, she had used that word he loved to hear her say!)  "But I want a real life."

            "Sounds good ta me," he whispered and gave her his signature grin.  He moved to sit up in the bed, never letting his eyes move from hers, and drew her close.

            "'Sides.  Y'all are so much more than mah prince charmin'.  Ya mah soul mate."

            "An' you're my soul mate, Roguie," he said, meaning every syllable of it from the depths of his heart.  His lips descended upon hers once more, his tongue slipped into her mouth.  If he could kiss her for all eternity, it wouldn't be nearly long enough.

            "Oh my stars and garters!"  Remy nearly jumped out of his skin at Hank's exclamation – which, had he been paying more attention, sounded a bit like the good doctor was faining surprise; Hank really wasn't that good of an actor.  At any rate, Remy thought that he knew the real reason why the man was called Beast.  "Remy," Hank continued, "Rogue, what's going on?  My, my you two, the way you two kiss would make Wesley and Buttercup green with envy!  Are you okay?"

            "Well, Ah'm a little jumpy after y'all burst in here an' scared us half to death, but before that, Ah'd nevah been better."

            "Well, I'm happy to hear that, and glad to see that you seemed to have mastered your absorbing powers, my dear Rogue, but I'm still not positive the effects of your, eh, touch, are still not entire healthy for our resident Cajun.  Why just look at his heart rate!"

            "I'm fine," Remy protested as Hank prepared to prod him.  Hank had obviously ignored his last statement, though, and continued to ramble on.

            "Moreover, I think it imperative to inform our benefactor of the recent developments here –"

            _Oh wonderful_, Remy thought, _just what I need, more people down here_, and he rolled his eyes as he watched Hank go for the blood pressure cuff and his stethoscope.  As if sensing his annoyance, he heard Rogue say "He's just concerned.  'Sides, we've waited this long, we can wait a little while longer to be alone without fear."  He supposed she was right, and his agitation lessoned a little.  He wasn't really looking at her though, so he hadn't realize that she hadn't actually _spoken_ her last words to him.

            Patiently, Remy let Hank poke a prod him, listening to his babbling.  Rogue didn't move from her spot next to him on the bed, and he was content to hold her bare hand in his.  Had he been paying attention to the big blue furball other than just his requests that he stick out his tongue, turn his head and cough, etc., he would have realized that Dr. McCoy was doing a great deal more than was really necessary, almost as if Henry seemed to be enjoying delaying the couple a bit too much.

            "So, Hank tells me that Rogue seems to have gained control over her powers," the professor stated rather superfluously upon entering the Med Lab once again.

            "Yeah, it seems dat she has."  Remy sounded a little more annoyed than he had intended, but decided that he didn't care.

            The professor looked at the couple.  "I knew you had it in you.  Congratulations, to both of you."

            "Thank ya," Remy heard a beautiful voice reply

            "I must admit, though, it seems to have occurred at a much faster rate than I thought possible.  I would have guessed that it would have been a more gradual transition.  Tell me, how was this accomplished?"

            Rogue proceeded to tell him of the earlier events of that same evening.  Sometime though it, Hank had finished with his check-up, and pulled up a stool to listen.  Remy was the only in the room that wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying, though.  He didn't need to.  He knew how it went.

            "Fascinating!" Hank and Xavier said in unison when it was over.

            "So what's de verdict, doc?  Kin I go back to my room?" Remy asked Hank.

            "Yeah, sure, get out of here, you crazy kids."

            "'K.  Thanks, Beast.  Say, where're my clothes?" Remy asked as he prepared to get up from the bed.  _Better get them quick.  This place makes me nervous.  Reminds me o' Sinister's Labs_, he thought to himself.  Or at least he believed it was to himself.

            Rogue gasped, her eyes widening in shock.  Remy shot his head to her.

            "Chere, what's wrong?"

            "Remy...do you remember the time ya spent in mah head?"

            "Yeah...why?"

            "Well, Remy...Ah kin still hear your thoughts in mah head."

            "Fascinating!"

            "Really?  How 'bout dis one?"  _All I wanna do right now it take you upstairs, undress you, lather butter all over your naked body just so I lick it all off and then – _

            "Remy!" she cut him off.  She was blushing furiously.  "Ah can't believe what a mind ya've got!"  _Don't you know that too much butter will upset your stomach?  Why, you can't even handle butter on your popcorn!  No, we'll use the whipped cream and chocolate syrup._

            He let out a hearty chuckle as he drew her closer.  _I'm so lucky to have someone like you who's always looking out for me_, he projected to her as he kissed her, not quite as passionately as he would have liked.  After all, there were people around.


	12. Jade

The Tree

Jade

"Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,

The holy tree is growing there;

From joy the holy branches start,

And all the trembling flowers they bear.

Remembering all that shaken hair 

And how the winged sandals dart,

Thine eyes grow full of tender care;

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart."

_--from "The Two Trees" words by __William Butler Yeats_

            The pair had snuck out of the MetLab while Charles and Hank were still contemplating the lengths to which Rogue and Remy might be able to develop their newfound psychic connection.  Arm in arm, the pair finally found their way to Rogue's room.

            The dress she had been wearing was laid out on a chair by her bed, where she had left it.  She fumbled with the silky material for a moment and let out a little laugh as he closed the door.

            "This here dress has been through 'bout as much as Ah have tonight.  Too bad I'm gonna have ta give it up."

            "Whatcha talkin' 'bout, chere?"

            "The dress.  It's rented.  Ah'm gonna have ta give it back."

            "'Snot rented.  I bought it fo' you."

            "Ah – oh."  She smiled at him.  "Thank ya.  Fo' everythin'."

Remy pulled back the covers of the bed invitingly and Rogue plopped herself down on the bed, lying on her back.  Staring at the ceiling, she stretched out.  She took the moment to feel everything around her.  The air.  Her silk tank top.  The old pair of boxers she had borrowed from Remy and had never bothered to give back.  The way she seemed to sink into the soft, squishy mattress.  And Remy.  Above all she felt his presence, his body sitting on the bed next to her, his thoughts in her mind, his soul in her heart.  She felt free, so free; free at last to touch anything, to do anything.  And she was ready for it now; ready for anything that might happen to her – to them – tonight or for the rest of their lives.

He moved to put his arms around her.  Bare skin against bare skin.  It was glorious.  Unable to contain her newfound joy any longer, she laughed out loud; laughed and cried.  Under most circumstances, she would be a little embarrasses to express such emotions.  Tonight, however, she felt no shame.  Of course, it also helped that through their link, she could feel the same joy emitting from her lover.

She turned toward him, and was surprised to find an apologetic expression on his face.

"Ah, chere?  I really hate ta do dis, but, ah well, after bein' down in de lab an' all…I need a shower.  I'll just be five minutes."

She wasn't disappointed.  Not really.  She would have waited her whole life to be with him, she could certainly wait five minutes.

"Okay, sugah.  Ya know where everythin' is.  Ah'll be right here."

He kissed her and headed toward the bathroom, where he took the quickest shower of his life.

True to his word, Remy emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, only to find that his Lady Love had fallen asleep!  He couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment.  _Well_, he reasoned, _the girl  deserved a good rest.  She's been through a lot in one night_.

He went to the side of the bed she was on and pulled the covers over her.  He was about to go around to the other side of the bed and snuggle up next to her, but changed his mind and decided to simply sit there for a moment.

_Mon Dieu, mais she is beautiful!_ he thought to himself as he moved a stray strand of white hair from her face.  Not caring that she was asleep – feeling that she'd know what he had to say regardless – he leaned down to whisper to her.

            "Je t'aime, mon cher. Plus que n'importe quoi. Et je vais vous rendre si heureux. L'attente juste et voient, mon coeur."[1]

            She let out a faint sigh, as if she heard and approved of what he had said, and he could have sworn he saw her smile broaden.  Satisfied, he headed for the other side of the bed, turning out the lights on the way.  He slid in easily under the covers, delighting in the fact that they would never again function to separate her silky skin from his.  He reached out for the bare skin that he had longed to touch for so long and curled up as close to her as he could, content to just hold her as he let his exaustion take the better of him.

            Just as he was about to drift off into what he was sure would be some of the best dreams he had had in a long time, he heard her voice, soft as snowflakes dancing on the wind.

            "Jade," she muttered.

            For a moment, he contemplated what the heck she was referring to, briefly wondering if talking in her sleep was one of her sleeping habits that he had not yet picked up on.  He was about to ask her about it when her eyes opened.  He could make out a sliver of emerald irises.

            "Jade Rose Morgan."  He understood this time, realizing just what it was se was telling him.

            "Jade Rose," he repeated slowly, letting it settle in; letting it roll on his tongue like honey.  "C'est le nom le plus beau que j'ai jamais entendu."[2]

            "Merci beaucoup, amoureux. Je vous ai espéré le voudrais.[3]  Ah love you, Remy."

            "I love you, Jade."

            And with that, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

Fin. 

  


* * *

[1] Je t'aime…coeur. = I love you, my dear.  More than anything.  And I am gonna make you so happy.  Just wait and see, my heart.

[2] C'est… entendu = That is the most beautiful name I have ever heard.

[3] Merci…voudrais = Thank you very much, lover.  I hoped you'd like it.


End file.
